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Three Vassar Girls 



IN ENGLAND. 



A HOLIDAY EXCURSION OF THREE COLLEGE GIRLS 
THROUGH THE MOTHER COUNTRY. . 



\r ^ BY , 

LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY, 

AUTHOR OF "a NEGLECTED CORNER OF EUROPE," "THREE VASSAR GIRLS ABROAD," ETC 



ILLUSTRATED BY "CHAMP," 

And other Distinguished Artists. 




BOSTON: 
ESTES AND LAURIAT, 

301-305 Washington Street. 
1884. 



Copyright, 18S3, 
By Estes and Lauriat. 



THE LIBRARY 
OF C ONGR ESS 

JJWA SHINGTOW 



S^^ 



1 (,' 




CONTENTS. 



I. Prejudice .......... 

II. Tom, Dick, and Harry ....... 

III. The Lawn Party at Chatsworth 

IV. Maud's Sketching Tour. First Bulletin: — Worcester 
V. Maud's Sketching Tour. Bulletin Second: — WAR^VICK 

AND KeNILWORTH ....... 

VI. Sweet Girl Graduates ....... 

VII. Maud's Sketching Tour. Bulletin Three: — The Thames 

VIII. Barbara's Log. — Chip the First 

IX. Maud's Sketching Tour. Bulletin P"our : — London 

X. Barbara's Log. — Chip the Second .... 

XI. The Right Key . . ... . . . 

XII. Intercepted" Letters ....... 



28 

44 
61 



74 

97 

113 

139 
164 

179 
192 

213 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Mr. Atchison .... 
Haddon Hall .... 
Courtyard, Haddon Hall . 
Harry the Harper . . • . 
Miss Featherstonhaugh 
Dorothy Vernon's Terrace . 

Dick 

Maud 

The Dog-cart .... 
Grand Old Oaks 

The Owlet 

Elizabeth and Essex . 

Tom 

Worcester Vase .... 
Chelsea Vase in the British Museum 
Shall I Crush Her.? . 
Chatsworth .... 

Lady Cubbing, 1882 . 
Aquarium ..... 
Lawn-tennis Match 
Catherine Discussing . . . . 
Farnese Flora .... 
Cromwell at the Deathbed of his 

Daughter .... 
Battle of Marston Moor 
It was John Featherstonhaugh . 
Lady Gubbins, 1810 . 
" 1765 . 
Yellowplush behind His Lordship's 

Chair ..... 
Fox-hunting .... 
Kenilworth Castle 
On the Road .... 
Queen Elizabeth 



14 
17 
20 
21 
22 

25 
28 
29 
30 
31 
34 
37 
40 
42 
43 
46 

47 
50 
51 

54 
57 
66 

67 
69 
71 

75 
76 

77 
79 
8r 

84 
85 



Past Quaint Cottages . 


• 87 


One of the Towers 


83 


Warwick Castle .... 


. 89 


Hoary Keep of Kenilworth 


93 


Shakespeare's Tomb . 


95 


Potting Plants .... 


99 


Jim ...... 


lOI 


Milton Dictating 


■ 103 


The Street Locksmith 


108 


At the Cabin Door 


III 


Making up the Journal 


. 114 


Mary Plighting her Troth . 


• 115 


Blenheim ..... 


. 119 


Picnic at Nuneham . 


122 


Escape of Empress Maud . 


123 


On the Tow-path 


126 


Swans at Henley 


129 


Guiding the Rudder . 


.132 


Windsor Castle . . . 


134 


View of Richmond Hill 


135 


Augustus ..... 


141 


Isle of Man 


142 


Bardic Contests at Carnarvon Castle 


144 


Carnarvon Castle 


145 


Welsh Peasant 


147 


In the Miiit .... 


148 


Pont Aberglaslyn . . . . 


151 


A Talk about Business 


155 


Raglan Castle 


160 


Chepstow Castle . . . . 


i6r 


The Avon at Bristol . . . . 


163 


The Esthetic Clique . . . . 


166 


Westminster Abbey . . . . 


169 


At the Foundling Hospital 


171 



X 



ILL USTRA riONS 



At the Grosvenor 

Doing London in Hansom Style 

Charity Boy 

Gamin 

The Tower of London 

Coast between Tintagel and 

castle . 
Botallack Mine . 
Cape Cornwall . 
Land's End 
Codicil No. 3 
Lizard Point 
Rynance Cove . 



Bos 



172 
173 

174 

175 
176 

181 

183 

186 
187 
189 
192 
193 



Dolls for the Tinas 

Plymouth . 

Carisbrook Castle 

A Surrey Stable. 

A Surrey Cottage 

A Confidential Conversation 

In the Park 

Kensington Gardens . 

Lincoln Cathedral 

In the Dressing-Room 

An Enghsh Churchyard 

Goethe's Promenade, Weimer 



19s 
197 
199 
203 
204 
206 
211 
215 
219 
225 
229 
235 



Three Vassar Girls in England. 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



CHAPTER I. 



PREJUDICE. 

ND in spite of all this I do not like the 
English!" * 

" Barbara Atchison ! " 
"You surely do not mean that you 
do not like your cousins." 

" No, I except them. They seem to 
me almost like Americans; but English 
people typically and collectively impress me as the 
most antipathetic, — the most disagreeable on the 
face of the earth. 
"And yet," remarked Cecilia Boylston, the eldest of the 
three, a dignified girl with a face as pure and clear as her pebble eye- 
glasses, "you were in raptures a moment ago over this fascinating 
little country-house, with the ivy clinging to the stepped gables, 
making such a rich contrast to the red brick, over this cozy alcoved 
window, with that wonderful view, over all the quaint ways of the 
household, and the Chippendale furniture. What is it that strikes the 
false note ? " 

"Nothing, just here. It is all perfect. Nobody could find fault 
with Cosietoft or with my good relatives. When I think of 
.how Cousin Acherly Atchison left his business at Manchester and 

13 




14 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 




MR. ATCHISON. 



departed forthwith to America to hunt up his unkno\^ cousins, just 
because a legacy had been left in which we had a share, his con- 
duct seems to me worthy of one of the knights at Arthur's Table 
Round. Why, most people would have been content with inserting 
a persona] in the Herald., and trusting to our never see'ing it." 

"Then," added Maud Van Vechten, — a 
business-like young woman already sharpen- 
ing her pencils preparatory to sketching the 
towers visible in the distance, — "then it was 
perhaps quite natural that he should insist on 
taking you back to England with him to visit 
in this delightful family; but that he should 
invite Saint and me as well, because we were 
friends of 3^ours, and happened to be passing 
through Derbyshire on our way to London, 
— why, such hospitality wins my heart, not only for Mr. and Mrs. 
Atchison, but warms it to all their country-people." 

"If this were all," replied Barbara, "or if all were like this; but 
Aunt Atchison is determined that we shall see some society; and 
presently we shall have to meet the dreadful bores that figure in 
Trollope's novels, and whom even Dickens and Thackeray could not 
make entertainins^. If we could wander at our own sweet will 
through this lovel}^ country, with only books to interpret it for us; 
but no, we must meet stupid people and opinionated people, talking 
bores and dignified bores, and for uncle and aunt's sake I must try to 
propitiate all." 

" I sympathize with you. Barb," Maud remarked. " The less we 
see of people the better. If they are disagreeable it is always diffi- 
cult to shake them oft', and if one likes them they make us fritter 
away our time. Imagine having to spend whole days on afternoon 
teas, calling, and picnics, when one might be sketching Kenilworth 
or Warwick Castle ! " 



PREJUDICE. 



15 



"There is to be a grand lawn-party at Chatsworth next week to 
begin with, which we cannot escape. Cousin Dick is coming up 
from Oxford to attend it, and even Tom, who scarcely ever leaves his 
business at the Royal Porcelain works, is to be here. That will be 
our debut, and after that I fear Aunt Atchison will get up some minor 
festivities on her own account. I besought her not to do so. I told 
her we were very simple in our tastes, and would much prefer that 
she should not make a fuss over us. The two quiet days that we have 
spent in this rambling old house have been more than delightful. I 
am afraid they are too good to last. Harry is only a boy of sixteen, 
and a good-natured and endurable young fellow, but I confess that I 
dread the coming of my older cousins, though we may congratulate 
ourselves that they cannot stay long. Then think of the fossils of 
clergymen and dowagers, and old squires, and narrow-minded women 
that we will have to meet! Their patronage of America will be even 
worse than their downright rudeness. I think we have an innate 
prejudice against the English, and they against us. It is as intense 
and as irrational as our longing to snap torpedoes on Fourth of Jul}', 
and perhaps the feeling and the custom date back to a common 
orio;-in." 

. "I am glad that you recognize the feeling as prejudice," replied 
Cecilia, familiarly called Saint. "I who was born under the shadow 
of Bunker Hill have no such vindictive feeling. If I had lived at the 
time of the Revolution I have no doubt my blood would have been 
stirred by the reverberations of the great guns; but this popping of 
crackers and international squibs of criticism seem to me alike 
childish." 

"What I find particularly galling," continued Barbara," is the fact 
that the English are so supercilious. They fancy that they under- 
stand us perfectly, while they have not the remotest conception of 
what Americans really are." 

" I can pardon the arrogance which comes from misconception," 



.l6 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

remarked Maud; "what I find absolutely incomprehensible is their 
lack of taste. Do you remember how those English women in Paris 
used to dress? They were the laughing-stock of the French. Five 
shades of purple in one costume, and crimson and magenta married 
most unlovingly in another gown, while a Paisley scarf with a vermil- 
ion centre completed the horror." 

" I thought the aesthetic craze had put an end to such atrocities." 

"Yes, their artists are teaching them new and better ideas, but 
Oscar Wilde, and Patience, and Du Maurier's caricatures in Punch 
show us to what an extreme they are carrying the new fashion. I 
am more and more convinced that the English as a nation are utterly 
tasteless." 

Saint laughed merrily. "Girls," she exclaimed, "if any one needs 
to have their impressions corrected, I am sure you do. I foretell 
that before we have passed three months in England both of you will 
dote on the English. I believe that all antagonism comes from im- 
perfect knowledge. What could be kinder than the reception that 
we have received here? Mrs. Atchison, too, dresses neither in violent 
purples nor in dirty greens, but in conventional black. We ought to 
remember also that we are English ourselves, only a few generations 
removed, and I for one am ready to believe that all English people 
are agreeable, could we thoroughly know them." 

Barbara shook her head doubtfully. " Cousin Acherly admits that 
English people have wrong notions about American girls, and he does 
us the compliment to think that acquaintance with us will enlighten 
some of his benighted neighbors. I do hope that I shall not disap- 
point him. No fears about you two, but m}^ evil genius will be sure 
to lead me into some escapade." 

" Never fear. Barb," Maud replied, reassuringly, " you couldn't do 
anything really shocking, no matter how hard 3''ou tried. It is rather 
crushing to think that the reputation of America, and Vassar as well, 
is at. stake in our insignificant persons. But I believe that the 



PREJUDICE. 



19 



less we think about it the better. If we go straight ahead without 
deferring to any one's opinion, simply minding our own concerns, I 
am sure we cannot scandalize any rightly-disposed person, while if 
we are continually wondering what Mrs. Grundy will say, we will 
blunder into no end oi faux -pas ixoui sheer self-consciousness. Of 
one thing I am sincerely thankful, we have no chaperone to be respon- 
sible for. I am afraid that when we were in France together we 
earned the reputation of being rather giddy, simply because my mar- 
ried sister Lilly was the figure-head of the party. We will sail under 
our own flag this time, and I have no fear that we shall put it to 
shame." 

As they spoke Mrs. Atchison rustled gently into the room. "Lun- 
cheon is ready, my dears," she said, pleasantly; "and after that is dis- 
posed of, I have ordered the wagonette for a short drive over to Had- 
don Hall. Our bad weather of yesterday has cleared away, and 
Harry is impatient to do the honors of the neighborhood." 

They were joined at luncheon by Harry and by his tutor, Mr. Ives; 
^an uninteresting dyspeptic," Maud has systematically labelled him 
on the occasion of their first interview. 

" What is your impression of the view of Haddon Hall which we 
obtain from the library?" he asked of Saint. 

" It is even more English than I had expected," she replied. 

The rest laughed merrily. 

" Did 3^ou think it would be like Boston ? " Maud asked. 

" I was afraid it would be simply commonplace. So many of the 
noted places that we saw in Europe might just as well have been in 
Massachusetts or New York State for an}^ perceptible difference in 
character. But this is plainl}^ and unmistakably a leaf from the 
Waverley Novels. It could not be France, or Spain, or America; it 
is really what it pretends to be, and what is better, it has the appear- 
ance of being- what it is." 

"It is really Haddon Hall," Mrs. Atchison replied; "the old do- 



20 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



main of the Avenels, the Vernons, and the Manners'. It is the castle, 
too, that Sir Walter describes in ^ Peveril of the Peak.' This part of 
Derbyshire is called the Peak, you know." 

" I have brought my set of the Waver] ey Novels with me," Saint 
confessed, "and intend to interlay it v^ith photographs of castles, 
abbeys, and other interesting material v^hich I may find in this tour." 




COURTYARD, HADDON HALL. 

"And I desire to fill my sketch-books before w^e reach London," 
said Maud. 

" Dorothy Vernon's Terrace," said Mrs. Atchison, rising, " would 
make a very pretty sketch. And so would the courtyard." 

They crossed the Wye, and approached the entrance in the main 
tower. The battlemented turrets rose grandly over the trees, and 
Maud could not repress her enthusiasm. " What an interesting old 
feudal fortress ! " 



PREJUDICE. 



21 



"I beg pardon," replied Mr. Ives; "the Hall hardly deserves to 
be called old^ it only dates back to the fifteenth centiny, when the 
feudal period had quite passed away. They entered the great hall, 
adorned with stags' horns, with a galler}' for the minstrels running 
across the end, and then passed on into the once splendid dining- 
room, whose carved ceilino- still retained vestio^es of tarnished orildinsr. 
Here they amused themselves by tracing the boar's-head, the device 
of the Vernons', and the peacock, that of the Manners', in the carv- 
ings of the fireplace and cornice. Through other interesting apart- 
ments hung with arras, the}' continued their walk into the grand 
gallery. 

"When the family lived here," Harry explained, "they used to give 
balls in the galler3\ It's just your bad luck that you live in this cen- 
tury; you might have had it to say that you had danced on the very 
floor that Qiieen Elizabeth tripped it on years ago." 

" What is to hinder our dancing now? " asked Barb, " Didn't I hear 
you practising on the key-bugle last night, Harry?" 

" No, that was Mr. Ives, and I 
don't believe he happens to have it 
about him, but if a jews-harp will 
do" — and placing a large one be- 
tween his teeth he buzzed away with 
a merr}' jig, and Barbara, encircling 
Maud's unwilling waist, whirled her 
off. No one looked at all shocked, 
while Aunt Atchison beat time 
good-humoredly with her fan. Just 
at the height of the merriment a 
door opened, and a group of other 
visitors looked in upon them. Bar- 
bara had a swift vision of the scornful face of a tall English girl, 
who turned away after the first glance with contemptuous dignity. 







22 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



Aunt Atchison and Saint were standing with their backs to 
the door, and had not seen the newcomers, but Harry dropped 

his jews-harp with mock terror. " Now 
isn't this a go!" he exclaimed, ^"^That 
was Miss Featherstonhaugh and some 
of her friends, that she has up from Girton 
to attend the lawn-party at Chatsworth." 

Aunt Atchison looked much annoyed. 
" How extremely vexatious ! " she ex- 
claimed, unguardedly. 

"'What is it, dear auntie; have we done 
anything very dreadful ? " Barbara asked. 

"No, my dear; it was simply amusing, 
and quite proper; but Miss Featherston- 
haugh is one of the persons on whom 
Mr. Atchison counted on your making a 
favorable impression. For so young a 
person, she is considered very learned, 
having just graduated at Girton College, 
Cambridge. She is formal in manner, and 
I fear a trifle opinionated." 

" She's a number one prig! " Harry 
interpolated. 

" I see," Barbara mused, in a tone of 
deep despair. " It is just my evil genius 
that gives us this unfortunate introduc- 
tion. I have spoiled everything." 

" Why should 3^ou care ? " Maud in- 
quired, in a business-like way. " If Miss 
Featherstonhaugh is a person to be preju- 
diced by such a trifle why she's not worth 




MISS FEATHERSTONHAUGH. 



minding. 



I've no doubt the Girton girls 



PREJUDICE. 23 

waltz and romp when they are alone and unobserved, as we thought 
we were. I would like to make a study of her face ; the corrugator 
su-percilii muscles, and the levator nasi were called into such beau- 
tiful action." 

" I don't care a pin-head's weight for Miss Featherstonhaugh as Miss 
Featherstonhaugh," Barbara replied, "but you see Cousin Acherly 
has made a point of our propitiating her, and after what has happened 
how can I ever do it." 

'■ Ignore this contretemps," counselled Cecilia, " make her acquamt- 
ance, and talk over college matters together. If she's an enthusiastic 
Girton girl, of course she's interested in the experiment of higher 
education for woman on our side of the water, and there's a bond 
of union at the outset." 

" She will probably call upon you," remarked Aunt Atchison, " and 
you will meet her at the lawn-party at Chatsworth. The invitations 
from the Duchess of Devonshire include all, and to-morrow the boys 
will come home to attend the festivities, and the county will do its 
best for you. Do not afflict yourself, dear child, about Miss Feather- 
stonhaugh. I have no doubt that all will end precisely as Miss 
Cecilia predicts." 

They went out upon Dorothy Vernon's terrace, and from it de- 
scended into the garden, where the very yews were cut into fantastic 
boars'-heads and peacocks. " This is where Dorothy Vernon eloped 
with her lover, John Manners," Aunt Atchison explained. She spoke 
gayly, and it was perhaps to distract Barbara's mind from the recent 
unpleasant occurrence that she began the romantic legend of the 
ancient mansion. 

" The Kino- of the Peak, the last of the name of Vernon who 
owned the castle, had two daughters, Margaret and Dorothy. Mar- 
garet was betrothed with her parent's consent to the son of the Earl 
of Derby; but Dorothy had formed an attachment, for some reason 
not approved by her father, for young John Manners, son of the Earl 



2A THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

of Rutland. On the very night of the marriage of the elder daughter,, 
John Manners, who had been lurking about the place for some da}'^ 
in the disguise of a forester, caused his horses to be brought to the 
confines of the park, and just when the merriment in the castle was 
at its height: when the beacons blazed on the turrets, the tables in 
the great hall groaned with wassail, and the minstrels were playing 
their gayest wedding march, — Dorothy, stealing out of the banquet- 
ing hall, joined her lover at the foot of this terrace." 

"It is just the spot for an elopement," remarked Cecilia; "only 
notice how the trees of the park encroach on the garden. Lover or 
enemy might approach quite near without detection. I v^onder if 
Tennyson drew from this legend a part of his "^Maud.' The Hall and 
the Hall garden are here, and the picture of the revelry in the 
castle — 

" All night have the roses heard 
The flute, violin, bassoon : 
All night has -the casement jessamine stirred 
To the dancers dancinsr in tune." 



And so, too. 



" The lily whispers, ' I wait. 



"Are you quite sure," queried the correct Mr. Ives, "whether the 
instruments you mention were used at that remote period.^ It seems 
to me that a harp would be more probable." 

" Or a jews'-harp ? " Maud asked, mischievously. 

" I think it an instance of very bad manners^'' Barbara added, 
demurely. 

"O, come now," pleaded Harry, "don't begin that sort of thing. 
There's no end to the bad puns that can be made on the name." 

"I remember," added Mrs. Atchison, smilingly, "that my nurse 
used to impress it on my mind that I must not help myself to the last 
piece of cake in the basket, for that belonged by right to the Duke 
of Rutland. It was not until I had attained to years of discretion 



PREJUDICE. 



25 



that I comprehended that the expression ^ Leave something for man- 
ners,' did not really refer to the feudal rights of our seigneur." 

At the death of the King of the Peak Dorothy Vernon's husband- 
was the first of his name to own Haddon Hall, and it has remained, 
ever since in the possession of his descendants." 

After lingering a while longer in the garden they returned to the 
interior of the castle, for Cecilia was anxious to identify the nursery 




DOROTHY VERNON'S TERRACE. 



With the Gilded Chamber which Scott describes as the play-room of 
Julia Peveril and little Alice Bridgenorth. There w^as no trace, 
however, of the hangings of stamped Spanish leather, representing 
tilts between the Saracens of Granada and the Spaniards under Fer- 
dinand and Isabella. Mr. Ives scrutinized the wall carefully for the 
sliding-panel or concealed door into the priest's chamber, where the 
Countess of Derby, Charlotte de la Tremouille, was said to have 



^5 ' THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

been secreted during her flight from the Presbyterians. " I fear," he 
:said, " that it existed only in Sir Walter's imagination." 

"Oh! don't destroy my faith in the Waverley Novels," Cecilia 
besouo-ht. " When we were in Granada we made Irving's ^ Tales 
of the Alhambra ' our guide-book, and we found the localities abso- 
lutely correct. I had determined to let Sir Walter Scott introduce 
me to England, and I can't afford to lose my confidence in his 
veracity at the outset." 

"But Scott does not pretend that Martindale Castle is a literal 
picture of Haddon Hall," apologized Mrs. Atchison. " He simply 
acknowledges that Haddon furnished him his material." 

" There is one room, however," replied Cecilia, " which I am sure 
must be authentic, — the boudoir of the mistress of the mansion, a 
tapestried chamber with a number of sally-ports. One leading to 
the family bedroom, another to the ^ still-room ' and the garden, a 
third to a little balcony which jutted into the kitchen, from which she 
■could scold the cook, and a fourth to the gallery of the chapel. I 
have never forgotten the description, for it was so suggestive of the 
leading employments of a lad}'' of that period." 

" There is some authorit}^ for that picture," replied Mr. Ives, " for 
there is a communication between her ladyship's pew in the chapel 
and the cook's department. She had onl}^ to open a scuttle in the 
wall to ascertain whether the preparation for dinner was keeping 
pace with the progress of the sermon." 

" Dear me," murmured Barbara, " how the spirit's free flight must 
have been clogged by such telephonic connection with a lower 
region." 

" It needs no telephone from the kitchen to tell me that it is near 
dinner-time now," remarked Harry, and the party turned reluctantly 
from the fascinating castle. As they entered the vestibule of Cosie- 
toft, the serving-man presented Mrs. Atchison with several visiting- 
cards. 



PREJUDICE. 27 

"Miss Featherstonhaugh and her friends have called during our 
absence!" she exclaimed. 

"I wonder whether it was before our encounter at the Hall," asked 

Harry. 

" If you please, mum, they only left a few moments ago." 

^^Then it was their phaeton we caught a glimpse of as we entered 

the lane," said Barbara; and as the girls mounted the staircase to their 

own rooms she added, "It's a cut direct. She knew we were at 

the Hall and hurried over here to make her call while we were 

away." 

Cecilia smiled vaguely. "Miss Featherstonhaugh's brother was 
more cordial," she remarked, as she passed on to her little bedroom 

in the tower. 

The other girls, who shared the same dainty apartment, turned and 
looked at each other in wide-eyed surprise. Maud spoke first. 
"How obtuse in me! It never occurred to me that the name was 

the same." 

" I dare say that it is a very common one," Barbara replied; "there 
are probably no end of Featherstonhaughs in England. But would 
it not be a fatality if this should prove to be the same family? " 

" Barbara Atchison, if you wish to be impressive, do take those 
hairpins out of your mouth. There is not the least likelihood that 
this young lady with the elevated nose is at all related to him." 

" I did not notice any resemblance." 

"To that good-natured, agreeable Mr. Featherstonhaugh! How 

absurd." 



28 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



CHAPTER II. 



TOM, DICK, AND HARRY. 




'TPHE mustering of the clan Atchison began that 



night with the arrival of Dick on a late train 
from Oxford. Breakfast was hardly over before 
he was out upon the lawn stretching the tennis- 
net, after which he politely invited the guests 
of the house to a sfame. Maud, urofing; the 



sketches on which her heart was set, excused 
herself, and presently her trim figure was seen 
tripping toward Haddon Hall. Saint too slipped 
away, begging the privilege of practising some ballads which she 
had discovered on the music-stand. "Twickenham Ferry" soon 
floated in clear rich tones through the open casement to the players 
on the lawn, — for Barbara had accepted her cousin's challenge to a 
lively skirmish, and, with Harr}-" for umpire, they enjoyed a hand- 
to-hand encounter. 

"Where did you learn our national game?" Dick asked, in some 
surprise, as Barbara rested at last under the great oak, fanning her 
flushed face with a racket. 

"We have played it at Vassar for three years past," she replied. 
"It is my favorite exercise, not quite so athletic as base-ball, nor yet 
so namby-pamby as croquet." Just as they were going in to luncheon! 
a servant rode up with a note for Dick, which that young gentleman 
evidently considered of grave importance. He explained to them 
all at table that one of the features of the party at Chatsworth was 
to be an inter-collegiate lawn-tennis match, it being arranged that 



TOM, DICK, AND HARRY. 



29 



representatives of Oxford and Girton were to pla}^ against Cambridge 
and Newnham. ^^Furthermore," continued Dick, with some little 
pride, "I am invited to play for Oxford." 

"Harry is going to the Rowsley Station at 
three to meet your father," said Mrs. Atchison; 
"he can start a little earlier and drop you on the 

way." 

" Have Prince Rupert and Oliver harnessed 
to the dog-cart in tandem," Dick remarked to 
Harry, as the latter left the room for the stables. 
As Mrs. Atchison and the girls passed into the 
drawing-room Dick detained Barbara a moment. 
" Will you not ride over with us ? " he said ; " it 
is the ' Duke's drive,' one of the loveliest in the 
county. I can take you as far as Featherston- 
haugh Manor, and Harry can play footman; after 
that he can drive you to the station, and you can ^ 
bring father back." 

Barbara's eye kindled, but a generous impulse 
restrained her. " Ask Maud," she said, " I shall 
have plenty of opportunities to see the beauties 
of the county, but she is going soon to London." 

Dick did not at all relish the suggestion. " O, just as you please, 
but ask her for me then," he said, with great lack of enthusiasm; " I 

am afraid of her." 

Barbara flew into the drawing-room to execute her commission. 

" Now what does she mean by washing her hands of a fellow in 
that style, " Dick thought to himself rather sulkily, as he hurried 
through his toilet. "That Miss Van Vechten in her gray travelling- 
suit, with her color-box and business-like air, looks like an agent for 
a commercial house, while I would have been rather proud of driv- 
ing up to the manor with Cousin Barbara beside me." 




MAUD. 



30 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



As he descended the stairs, he found Maud waiting with the girls, 
and was somewhat surprised and mollified by the elegant driving-cos- 
tume of dark green cloth, heavily ornamented with bands of rich 
embroidery in the same shade. " That's an imported gown," he said 
to himself, ^^ evidently it was born in Paris." Dick's confidence in 
his own judgment might have been lowered, and his opinion of Amer- 
ican taste rendered more 
favorable had he known 
that the dress was made 
in Poughkeepsie after 
^ Maud's own design, and 
that it had already served 
one season for drives in 
Central Park, New York, 
and in walks in and about 
Cincinnati. Harry was 
holding- the horses, and 



Dick handed Maud to her 




A 



seat. They had hardl}' 
started when Mrs. Atchi- 
son called to them to 
stop, and Barbara ran 
down the drive with 
Maud's parasol. Then 
Saint waved her hand- 
kerchief from the door, 
and they were oflf, past: 
grand old oaks and hunting parks, by river and crag, through 
the lovely English county. Through the first part of the ride. 
Dick was silent, with the exception of pointing out notable objects 
on their route; but Maud, who was perfectly at her ease, gathered 
up the reins of conversation and guided them as she chose. She 



THE DOG-CART. 



TOM, DICK, AND HARRY. o, 

began with deft inquiries about Oxford and the Taylor Institution, 
with its Art School and Gallery, endowed and presided over by 
Ruskin. "What a privilege it must be to attend his lectures," she 
said. ■ 

Dick laughed, as though the idea struck him as absurd in the last 
deijree. 

"What will you think of me when I confess that I have never 
visited the gallery? " he asked. 

" I shall be curious to know what your hobby is," she replied, 
" since it is not art.'' 

"Tom is the artist of the family. My hobby is water," he replied. 
" I've a row-boat at the university, and you should see the family 
yacht at Manchester. She's a steam-launch, and we call her the 
^Coal-Scuttle.' Father is as fond of yachting as any of us; he always 
manages to make a cruise at least once a year." 

But Maud Avas no more interested in yachting than Dick had been 
in art; she had no mind to listen to accounts of regattas; and with 
much dexterous skirmishing she ascertained his favorite authors, and 
they settled down to a discussion of Matthew Arnold and Charles 
Kings ley. 

"Kingsley is a real waterman," she said, pleasantly," and now I 
can guess that your pet novelists are George MacDonald and William 
Black."' 

" Yes," he replied, simply, " and the reason I don't care for art is 
that I've never seen the sea painted yet — as it ought to be, I mean." 

Then they drifted back to books again, and Herbert Spencer, 
Carlyle, Browning, and William Morris were passed in review. 

" You and Miss Featherstonhaugh would be prime friends," Dick 
said, at last. " She is wild over Browning; now I don't pretend to 
half understand him. They have a Browning Club at Girton, and 
are as wise as a company of young owls. 

Maud laughed heartily. "^^ You have given me an idea for a carica- 



34 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 




ture," she said. "You know every one resembles something in the 
lower animal creation. Miss Featherstonhaugh's face puzzled me. 
I know now that it has the owl conformation." They were bowling 
along very smoothly, and drawing out a pocket sketch-book she out- 
lined a face that was half human, half bird. The round cheeks, 

widely-staring, surprised eyes, and above all 
the scornfully elevated, aquiline nose, was 
so like the appearance of a startled owlet, 
and yet bore so strong a resemblance to 
Miss Featherstonhaugh as she looked in 
upon them at Haddon Hall, that Harry, who 
was craning his neck from behind, burst 
into paroxysms of laughter. 

Dick, too, though he could not under- 
stand the entire merits of the case, laughed in spite of himself, and 
in this merry mood a sharp turn through an ivy-covered gate-lodge 
brought them out upon a closely clipped lawn, before a picturesque 
Queen Anne cottage. At another time the house would have claimed 
Maud's attention, but just now she noticed with embarrassment that 
quite a party of ladies and gentlemen were playing tennis close to a 
hig-h ha^vthorn hedgfc which screened them from the observation 
of passers in the lane. Maud bit her lip as she reflectexl that they 
must have heard the laughter of her companions, and would doubt- 
less regard her as a hoydenish and boisterous girl. 

Miss Featherstonhaugh stepped forward from the group. Dick 
sprang to the ground and bowed profoundly, and Maud held the 
reins while Harry scrambled to her side. Miss Featherstonhaugh 
said something in a low tone, and Dick turning, introduced her 
to Maud. 

" Will you not join us ? " she asked, with what seemed to Maud 
rather distant politeness. 

"You are very kind," Maud replied, " but it is quite impossible; 



TOM, DICK, AND HARRY. ' 35 

we have another engagement." She pinched Harry's arm slyly, and 
he turned the horses toward the gate. 

"More like an owl than ever," he remarked, as they passed 
through. 

"Could anything be more unfortunate?" Maud replied, "than our 
ill-timed mirth? I wish I had shown you that sketch at any other 
point in our drive. She must think us the most giddy young per- 
sons she ever met." 

"And all the while you were talking Matthew Arnold and Her- 
bert Spencer." 

The rest of the drive to the Rowsley station ran past exquisite 
views of mountain and valley. They were near the flimous Dove 
Dale, and the scenery partook of its characteristics. They caught 
glimpses too of the grand old Tors' precipitous crags rising sharply 
from the Wye that frothed and frolicked at their feet. 

Maud had been silent for a few moments, but at length she spoke; 
"Tell me about these Featherstonhaughs, please; how many of them, 
and what kind of people are they ? " 

"There are only three of them left; Mrs. Featherstonhaugh, John, 
and Miss Gladys, and they are very nice people indeed. Old 
Squire Featherstonhaugh was a careless sort of man, and made ducks 
and drakes of their property. When he died he left the estate head 
and ears in debt to my great-aunt Atchison, who used to know him 
when she was a girl, and who lent him large sums of money. He 
always considered it a matter of sentiment, but Aunt Atchison was 
a shrewd, close-fisted old body, and all her loans w^ere secured by 
morto-ao-es on the house and grounds, which are almost as pretty a 
piece of property as our Cosietoft. Squire Featherstonhaugh was 
hardly buried before she sent in her little claim against the estate. 
Mrs. Featherstonhaugh is an invalid, and her children were afraid to 
let her know how badly they were oft'. John went to Aunt Atchison 
and told her that it would kill his mother in her delicate state of 



,rt THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

health to leave the place. Aunt pretended to be very magnanimous, 
and said she would not foreclose as long as the interest was paid 
regularly. John had just graduated, and was studying architecture, 
but he was not quite ready to enter business, and there did not seem 
to be any opening for him. All of a sudden Lord Gubbins, who was 
going out to India, offered to take him as his secretary at a good 
salary. John went, and was able to keep the interest up and support 
his sister. There is a farm or two along with the manor, so that Mrs. 
Featherstonhaugh had enough to live on; things w^ent on very 
smoothly until Lord Gubbins came back from India and John lost his 
place. It was the year before aunt died. Ill as she was she was very 
sharp about her money affairs. Father acted as her agent, and it 
seemed as if she was bent on persecuting that poor family all she 
could, for she insisted that the interest should be paid regularly. 
Father said nothing, but found John a building contract down in the 
south of England somewhere, which he pretended paid the interest. 
Then aunt died." 

" Was not she the relative," Maud asked, " who left the legacy to 
Barbara and her father? " 

"Yes, and she made a nice mess of it, too. She left all her property 
to father with the exception of Featherstonhaugh Manor, which she 
bequeathed to her relations in America, You see she was afraid 
father would be too kind to the Featherstonhaughs, and she hoped 
these unknown Americans would come over and turn them out of 
doors. She had never forgiven Squire Featherstonhaugh for slighting 
her, is what we young ones have made out of it, though who would 
have wanted to marry such a vindictive old creature as she was I 
can't imagine. Miss Gladys' mother is a lovely lady, ten times nicer 
thail Aunt Atchison." 

"If she wanted to give the family all the trouble she could, why 
didn't she foreclose the mortgage when it was in her power? " 

"I don't know; perhaps she thought they never could rake and 




ELIZABETH AND ESSEX. 



TOM, DICK, AND HARRY 



39 



scrape the interest, and that a lingering, wearing anxiety like that, 
ending in final defeat, would be a more bitter thing to bear than a 
sudden blow." 

"What a viperous old creature! " 

"Wasn't she? Her name was Elizabeth, and I remember a 
picture I saw once of our maiden queen boxing Essex's ear. It 
might have been painted from Aunt Atchison. I was always mortally 
afraid of her." 

"Does Barbara know all this?" 

"No; father doesn't want her to know it quite yet. I suppose I 
had no business to blab it to you, but you have such a taking way I 
did it before I thought." 

"Never fear, FU not tell Barbara." 

"Honor bright?" 

" Honor bright. I am sure your father has some good reason for 
keeping the facts to himself for the present. 

" He explained to the Colonel (that's Barbara's father) that the 
property was invested so as to draw a higher rate of interest as it 
stands than it would be likely to do in any other way, and Colonel 
Atchison said that it was all Barbara's, he never would touch a penny 
of it, and father might manage it as he thought fit. So now father 
has some scheme or other of making Cousin Barbara and Miss 
Featherstonhaugh friends before the state of affairs is explained to 
either of them." 

"Dear me!" commented Maud, "what a muddle! They have 
begun by hating each other cordially. If it was Saint now, she is so 

calm and unbiased," but Maud was suddenly silent, for another 

feature in the plot suddenly occurred to her, and she asked abruptly, 
"What did you say had become of the brother? " 

"He is doing well down in Kent; has an order to superintend 
some cathedral restorations, I believe." Just then a fish leaped in a 
quiet spot where the river crept near the road, and woke the boy's 



40 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS lA ENGLAND. 



wildwood instincts. The Featherstonhaughs were dropped, and the 
talk was of trout and salmon fishing. 

"We must bring our poles and have a picnic hereabouts before 
you leave us. There is 'The Peacock,' that every sporting man in 
the county knows so well. They can grill our fish for us, and we 
can bring a hamper or two of good things from home." 

Maud looked in every direction. ""^ I can't see so much as a pea- 
cock's feather," she said. 

" It's the inn," Harry laughed, "taverns I believe you call them in 
America." 

"Oh!" from Maud. 

" And here is the station ; please hold the lines while I go 
and look for father." 

A train from the south approached, 
stopped, backed, and waited for the Man- 
chester express. A tall, serious-looking 
young man alighted and approached Maud, 
apparently recognizing the horses and dog- 
cart. He lifted his hat ceremoniously. "I 
presume," he said, "that you are my Cousin 
Barbara.". 

" I am your cousin's friend, Maud Van 
Vechten. You have perhaps not heard 
that Cosietoft has suffered an invasion of 
American Goths and Vandals?" 

"No," he replied, smilingl}-; "my father 
gave 3^ou quite another character; but I 
have not explained that I am Tom Atchison, just up from Wor- 
cester." 

"You will give the family a pleasant surprise, they did not expect 
you until evening. We came to the station to meet your father." 
The train from Manchester whirled in as she spoke, and Maud 




TOM, DICK, AND HARRY. ,|I 

was v^lad to have Mr. Tom Atchison take the reins, for the horses 
pricked their ears nervously. Harry returned presently with a dis- 
;ippointed air. 

"Father has not come. Hillo, Tom^ where did you turn up 

from?" 

" From China, of course. Step into the telegraph office, and see 

whether father has sent a message." 

Harry came back presently, with a telegram in his hand. ''He 
will be here in the evening. I can come for him when I go to the 
Manor after Dick." 

The ride back to Cosietoft was an agreeable one. Maud had been 
desirous of meeting Mr. Tom Atchison since she had heard that he 
was connected with the most important porcelain works of England. 
She spent considerable time in decorating china, and having studied 
the subject in the museums of France and Spain, was prepared to 
talk intelligently, even with an expert. Mr. Tom Atchison presently 
found that the young girl beside him had more than a superficial 
acquaintance with his pet hobby, and they w^ere soon engaged in 
animated conversation. 

"I can understand," said Tom, ''that you could easily have 
acquired your familiarity with the marks of difterent manufactories 
from studying collections; but where did you become so wise in 
glazes and other technical matters?" 

"I have experimented a little," she replied, modestly; "I studied 
with Mr. Volkmar, in New York, and while visiting last summer in 
Cincinnati, I tried my hand at the pseudo Limoge which they make 
there. If one has a pet idea, one can pick up odds and ends ol 
information almost everywhere. When w^e were in Europe two 
years ago, my spending money always went for china, and I have a 
rather nice little collection at home. It boasts a Sevres teacup in 
Pompadour-rose, half of a genuine Alhambra tile with the old 
metallic glaze, a sugar-bowl in Rouen faience, a bit of antique 



42 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



majolica that my sister sent me from Florence, and a few other goodi 
things." 

" Have you ever seen any of the really fine specimens of cm- 
Worcester w^are ? " 

"Yes, the vase at the Patent Office, at Washington, decorated with 

Asiatic animals. I want to buy some , 
little pieces for myself when I visit Wor- I 
cester." 

" I shall be happy to add a couple of 
Royal Worcester plates, one old and one 
modern, to your collection." 

"Indeed, you are too good; 
but there is something else that 
I would rather 3'ou would do for 
me." 

"And what is that?" 
"I am more interested in acquiring 
information than in collecting speci- 
mens, and if you will show us over 
the works, Saint and I can stop at 
Worcester on our way to London. 
I will be more than grateful." 

" I will do it with pleasure, ( n 
condition that you do not decline the 
plates. But may I ask what prac-- 
tical use you intend to make of all 
this knowledge? Do you intend to 
set up a pottery on your own ac- 

In the U. S. Patent Office at Washington. COUnt? 

"Perhaps so. I don't mind tell- 
ing 3-ou that all my art study tends that wa}'. I visited Saint 
near Boston, one vacation. She has a cousin engaged in the Chel- 




WORCESTER VASE, 



TOM, DICK, AND HARRY. 



43 



sea manufactory, and I was very much interested in their way of 
working." 

^'What — you have transplanted our old Chelsea works, with 
their imitations of Watteau deco- 
ration and other French designs 
to America? "' 

"Only the name — the results 
effected are verj' different. What 
I wished to say was this. It mny 
be a very low aim, but I am sure 
that I can never be a 
great artist, while I 
think I have taste and 
enthusiasm enouo'h to 
do some good and orig- 
inal work in porcelain. 
I have decided to make 
this m}' special study 
while at South Ken- 
sington, and you can 
see now why I think it 
an especial privilege to 
visit the Royal Works 
at Worcester.'' 

" The Duke of Dev- 
onshire has a tine col- 
lection of china at Chats- 
worth, which I can explain to you to-morrow," was Tom's reply; 
while he thought to himself, "You are a remarkably sensible girl, 
and Fve no doubt you will succeed in what you attempt." 




CHELSEA VASE, IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 



44 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE LAWN-PARTY AT CHATSWORTH. 

T ^/"HEN Maud returned from her drive, she mounted dh'ectly to 
' ^ Saint's room, where she was happy to find her alone, busily 
engaged in copying music. Maud's active mind had conceived a 
far-reaching scheme, which involved both of the girls, and she was 
anxious to begin its development. She confided to Saint Harry's 
information in regard to the legacy, and asked her help. 

"I do not know exactly what Mr. Atchison intends to do," she said, 
" but I can trust him implicitly. Perhaps with his large family, three 
boys and two daughters (one married to a clerg3'man, and the other 
the wife of a scientist in South Africa), he thinks he has no right to 
allow himself the luxury of leaving the Featherstonhaughs in posses- 
sion of their home, and secretly making up the legacy to Barbara out 
of his own pocket. No doubt he has done enough for the family 
already, and it would be perfectly reasonable if he wished to make 
the girls friends, and then leave them to compromise mitters. At 
any rate friends they must be, and they have started on the wrong 
road. I have only made matters worse, and it is you alone, Saint, 
who can redeem the situation. You are an English type of girl; you 
must conciliate Miss Featherstonhaugh, and get her to tolerate Bar- 
bara." 

"I!" exclaimed Saint; "you forget that I have my own reasons 
for not wishing to see any more of the family." 

■'Now, Saint, do not be ridiculous; to hear you talk, one would 
think that John Featherstonhaugh had proposed to you." 



THE LAWN-PARTY AT CHATS WORTH. .;- 

"You know that he did nothing of the kind." 

"Then there is no oeeasion for any embarrassment, unless, per- 
haps, 30U are vexed with him for not proposing."' 

" Maud Van Vechten! " Saint's eyes fairly blazed. 

"There, don't be angry; let us face the facts sensibly, and see 
what they amount to. We met Mr. Featherstonhaugh when we were 
in Spain, as he was on his return from India with Lord Gubbins, He 
was very kind and polite to us all, and especially to you. He was 
plain and simple in his manner, a real brotherly kind of 3^oung man, 
and you liked him as well as Barb and I did, until he told you that 
he had a secret to contide to you some day. Then you took fright at 
once, and would none of him or his confidences, and we parted with- 
out ever ascertaining what this important secret was. Now, what 
right have you to imagine that it referred in any way to yourself ? 
Perhaps it was something about an important invention with which 
he intends to electrify the scientific world." 

Saint laughed. " It is ver}' possible," she replied. 

"Well, then, without any nonsense, you made a pleasant impres- 
sion on John Featherstonhaugh, and are likely to make a similar one 
on his sister. Will you not exert yourself for Barb's sake ? " 

" If I were sure that her brother had never spoken to her of me, 
and that my ingratiating myself in her good graces would not be mis- 

undei'stood No matter if it is. I shall probably never meet any 

of the family again. Well, I'll do m}' best, — for Barbara's sake." 

A little later Barbara burst excitedly into the room. " Oh, girls, 
such news ! " she exclaimed. "My hour of triumph has arrived. The 
Featherstonhaugh is at my gate as an humble suppliant. Dick has 
just returned from practising lawn-tennis at the Manor. It seems that 
the young lady from Newnham College, who was to play at the lawn- 
party, has suddenly been telegraphed for on account of the illness of 
her mother. This has thrown the inter-collegiate match into confu- 
sion, for they know of no other college girl in this vicinity who can 



46 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



play sufficiently well to take her place. It seems that Dick enlarged 
on my skill in back under-hand strokes, and my *^ show ' play gener- 
ally, and also on the fact that I was a Vassar girl, and so eligible to 
the contest, which last consideration had, perhaps, more to do in my 

election to the Newnham girl's place than 
any other. Be that as it may, here comes Dick 
with a very civil note from Miss Featherston- 
haugh, asking me to compete. Now shall I J 
crush her and decline." j 

"No, no," exclaimed Saint and Maud^ 
//I unanimously. 

"Oh! you'd have me pour coals of fire on 
her head, and mortify her by beating her at her 
own national game, and by showing her how 
cleverly we Americans can pla}^ ? " 

" No, Barb," Maud replied, " it is time we 
were dressing for dinner; come down to our 
room and let us talk it over." Scarcely was 
the door closed upon the two when Maud (as 
she expressed it mentally) carefully prepared a cartridge for the sec- 
ond division of her double-barrelled plot. 

" For Saint's sake, Barb dear, do be nice to Miss Featherston- 
haugh. You know her brother was one of the most agreeable men 
we ever met. He liked Saint, and something may come of it yet, 
but we must not prejudice his family against Americans." 

"Oh, dear! revenge is sweet. I feel like exasperating her to the 
last degree." 

" But you won't ? " 

"No, I'll be just angelic; but it's all for Saint's sake." 
The next day, at an early hour, the family repaired to Chatsworth, 
where they were graciously received by the Duke and Duchess of 
Devonshire, w^hose palatial residence, with its magnificent grounds,. 




SHALL I CRUSH HER? 




CHATSWORTH. 



THE LAWN-PARTY AT CHATSWORTH. .g 

ranks among the lirst of the princely domains of England. Consid- 
erable time was given to the inspection of the park and gardens. 
The fountains were in play, and nowhere except at Versailles had the 
girls seen them excelled. They wandered through the " Orangery " 
into the Hall of Sculpture, and out again through the mazes of the 
French garden to the monster conservatory from which the Cr3'stal 
Palace was modelled, where a superb Victoria Regia filled a huge 
tank with its immense leaves, and its royal blossoms, ranging in color 
from pure white through rose to dark purple. Just before the game 
of tennis was announced, while they were straying through the picture- 
gallery, they were suddenly confronted by a portly form, while a bluff 
voice exclaimed, " Is it possible that we have here those extraor- 
dinary young women from America?" 

" Quite possible," Saint replied, with quiet composure. Lord 
Gubbins shook hands with each of the girls with much effusion, 
and presented them to his wife with a flourish of his hand and the 
explanation, " These, my dear, are the Vassar girls of whom I have 
so often spoken." Then he led Maud, with her escort, Tom 
Atchison, into an adjoining apartment to see some tapestries. Saint 
followed with Ladv Gubbins and Mrs. Atchison: but Barbara and 
Dick excused themselves, as it was time for them to look up their 
fellow-players. Lady Gubbins belonged to the class to whose taste 
in dress Maud had expressed her especial antipathy. She was very 
conservative even in English matters, and proud of her ignorance 
of everything not English. 

" The growth of our provinces is very surprising," she said to 
Saint. " I think it must be owing to the interest which her Royal 
Highness the Princess Louise has taken in them. It was very noble 
of her to go out to such a half-savage country, and of course her 
influence must have given a great stimulus to American society. 
We hear so much more about America since she went out. The 
interest taken in education is truly surprising. The Princess sent 



50 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



over some Winnipeg girls, who were really civilized. One of themj 
played on a cabinet organ in a really creditable manner. If I hadj 
not seen them with my own eyes at a soiree given by Lady Algerrioi 
Montague, I shouldn't have believed the stories which his lordship 

told me of the accomplishments of 
you Vassar girls. But now I am ready 
to believe that our wild, aboriginal 
tribes can be educated almost to any 
extent." 

"My dear Lady Gubbins," Mrs. 
Atchison replied, politely, " Vassar is 
not the name of an Indian tribe, but 
of an institution of learning in the 
United States." 

Lady Gubbins raised her eye-glasses 
and gazed at Saint, who was blushing 
violently. 

" I thought she had a very fair 
complexion," she said, musingly, " but 
education and the force of example do such wonders. They 
say that since her Royal. Highness went out the natives are bleaching 
their hair. But, my dear, you have the true English physique, quite 
the Lancashire type, is it not, Mrs. Atchison? " 

" Yes, indeed," that lady replied, eagerly. " I remarked to Acherly 
last evening that if any one was introduced to Miss Boylston, not 
knowing her to be an American, they would never suspect it." 

"I would like to see the experiment tried," Maud exclaimed,,, 
turning suddenly. " Saint has not met Miss Featherstonhaugh yet.- 
If they could come together with nothing said about nationality what? 
fun it would be to watch the result. I would enjoy trying it myself, 
but unfortunately I have already met her." 

"I do not think I could manage it," said Mrs. Atchison' "Miss 





< 



THE LAIVA'-PARTV AT CHATSWORTH. 53 

c 

Featherstonhaugh knows that we have a party of American girls as 
('uests, and would immediately suspect." 

" But we know Gladys Featherstonhaugh," suggested Lord Gub- 
bins to his wife; "suppose, my dear, that you undertake to chaperone 
Miss Boylston for to-day, and we will see whether Gladys ,s br.ght 
enough to see through the ruse. Come, now, I am w.lhng to lay a 

wager on it." 1 v o • 

"Please doiVt make me the subject of a bet, my lord, Saint 

replied, wincing slightly. 

"Well we won't put it in that way, but Gladys is a shrewd gn-1, 
and a great favorite of mine. If she finds you out without a hmt 
from any one I'll take her to Ascot, and if you succeed m befoohng 

her we'll take you." 

"Thank you, my lord^ said Saint. ^'But pray let Miss Feather- 
stonhaugh have the pleasure in any case, for I have never attended 
races; it is something at which girls in my set in Boston would be 

quite shocked." 

"Not in good form, eh? The Derby perhaps isn't, but the ladies 
all patronize Ascot races. Where are they all moving to ? Ah! a 
tennis-match on the lawn. My dear, I believe we have reserved 
seats. We will take Miss Boylston with us and leave her at Cosie- 

toft on her way home." 

The parties separated, Maud and the Atchisons finding them- 
selves at quite a distance from Lord and Lady Gubbins. The play- 
ers were standing in easy attitudes, waiting for the signal for the 
be-innin- of the game. Barbara and Miss Featherstonhaugh were 
coriversing affably, but Maud could see that Miss Featherstonhaugh's 
eyes travelled critically over every detail of Barbara's dress, a very 
becoming suit, consisting of a dark blue silk Jersey and kilted skirt, 
admirably adapted to the exercise in hand. Miss Featherstonhaugh s 
attire was also sensible, but not so tasteful. 

The players took their places, and the set opened with nearly 



54 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



equal skill on each side. The two gentlemen were well matched, 
while Miss Featherstonhaugh's strong and steady play was offset by 
Barbara's more brilliant exploits. At last the score was declared 
^' games all," or five for each side. Each game was now of the 

utmost importance. 
During the first part 
of the next Barbara 
plainly had Miss 
Featherstonhaugh at 
an advantage, oblig- 
ing her by oblique 
drives to race from: 
side to side, until 
her fine English com-- 
plexion assumed the; 
color of a peony, andj 
she seemed likely' 

LAWN-TENNIS MATCH. 4. 1, ^1 

soon to become too! 
much fatigued to continue the game. Suddenly Barbara served 
two consecutive faults, and the game was declared "vantage" for 
Miss Featherstonhaugh. It so happened, oddly enough those thought 
who were familiar with Barbara's skill, that the next and decisive 
game was also lost through Barbara's play, and in opposition to Dick's 
advice. The set was over, and Barbara, flushed, and with an ex-, 
tremely satisfied expression for a defeated player, joined the Atch- 
isons. 

"Where is Saint?" she asked of Maud, but her inquiry was lost 
in Harr3^'s lamentation over the result of the game. 

" You played a great deal more cleverly than Miss Featherston- ■ 
haugh," he exclaimed. " If it had not been for your ill-luck 3-ou 
would have won the silver racket." 

Dick wore a dubious expression. "I cannot understand it," he 




THE LAWN-PARTY AT CHATSWORTH. 55 

aid. ''You were not as docile as usual in taking advice, Cousin 

Barbara." 

Meantime, Lord Gubbins had led Miss Featherstonhaugh up to 
Saint, who congratulated her upon her victory, as they strolled 
toward the refreshment-tent. The conversation glided uneventfully 
among topics not likely to betray Saint's nationality. They spoke of 
Europe. ''You have visited the continent, I presume," said Miss 
Featherstonhaugh; and then she compared the fountains to those at 
Versailles. Next, as a regimental band was discoursing from a 
neighboring pavilion, they touched upon music and found much in 
common. Saint spoke of the old songs which she had found; and of 
the fascination which dialect of every kind had for her. 

'^Then you are not from the North of England?" Miss Feather- 
stonhaugh inquired. 

'^ My home is in Chelsea," Saint replied, flushing slightly, as she 
thought how improbable it was that Miss Featherstonhaugh had ever 
heard of this suburb of Boston. 

"Have you ever read Edwin Waugh's songs in Lancashire 
dialect?" Miss Featherstonhaugh inquired; and on Saint's reply- 
ino- in the negative, she offered to lend her some of them set to 

music. 

"You will like ' Owd Pindar,' I think, and 'Mary Link thy Arm 
i' Mine.' He has a very touching tribute to the violin, too; it always 
comes to my mind when I hear Joachim play at the Sacred Harmon- 
ies. It runs in this way, I think: — 

' My Uncle Sam's a fiddler ; an 

I fain could yer him play 
Fro' set of sun, till winter neet 

Had melted into day ; 
For eh, sich glee — sich tenderness 

Through every changin' part, 
It's th' heart that stirs his fiddle, — 

An' his fiddle stirs his heart ! ' " 



56 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" That is delicious," Saint replied. " The violin is my favoritei 
instrument. Have you ever read Mr. Gilder's sonnet to it? These 
are tw^o lines from it: — 

' And now one white small note to heaven doth stray, 
And fluttering fall upon the golden strand.' 

They seem to me absolutely inspired." i 

"They are exquisite. But Gilder, Gilder? — " mused Miss Feath- 
erstonhaugh. " It is strange that I never heard of him." 

" He is an American poet," Saint replied, blushing once more, 
while Lord Gubbins elevated his eyebrow^s and smiled pro- 
vo kingly. 

"America is really coming to the front," Miss Featherstonhaugh 
admitted, patronizingly. "My opponent in tennis just nov\^ is an 
American, and quite a prett}^ girl, is she not, my lord.?" 

"Uncommonly pretty, on my w^ord. American young ladies have 
that reputation, you know." 

"My brother told me," Miss Featherstonhaugh continued, embar- 
rassing Saint sadly, " that while travelling with you he met a party 
of American ladies somewhere on the Continent who impressed 
him very favorabl}^ Do you happen to remember them, sir? " 

It was his lordship's turn to redden and fidget. "Aw, yes. 
Aw, couldn't forget them, you know, the}^ were so ver}^ extraor- 
dinary." 

"May I inquire in what way they were extraordinary?" Saint 
asked, fearlessl3\ 

" Oh! they were perfectly proper, you know; but they were so un- 
commonly clever and self-reliant, and yet so very charming that one 
forgot their very superior education, and treated them just as you 
would any agreeable lady of your acquaintance." 

Miss Featherstonhaugh laughed, good-humoredly. " I insist, my 
lord, that your portrait is that of an Englishwoman, and not a very 




CATHERINE DISCUSSING. 



THE LA WX-PA RTY AT CHA TS H 'Off TH. 5 9 

modern one, either. You remember that Catlierine Parr was learned 
enough to discuss theology with Henry VIII., and had taet enough to 
excuse her' abilities to her husband, who was no admirer of learned 

Indies.' 

The conversation from this point until the breaking up of the 
party, was sufficiently commonplace. Lord Gubbins, when he 
returned Saint to her iViends at Cosietoft, expressed himself as dissat- 
isfied " Gladys has not had a fair chance," he said. '' Meeting Miss 
Boylston in that casual way, it is no wonder that she did not suspect. 
We must have another trial." 

Lady Gubbins, who was really better bred than her appearance 
would lead one to infer, and who had withal a most hospitable dispo- 
sition, seconded her husband's wishes. 

- Gladys is goin- back with us for a visit of a few days at Gubbins 
Park in Warwickshire. Now Miss Boylston must also be ot the 
party It is on your way to London, and after you have been with 
us lone enough to try our little experiment. Miss Van Vechten must 
join yoti, and together we will make up an excursion to Kenilworth 
and Stratford-upon-Avon." 

Tvlr. and Mrs. Atchison approved heartily of the plan. 
^^Warwickshire is the most interesting country in England," said 
Mr. Atchison. " And this will give you an excellent opportunity lor 

seeino" it. 

- B^ut what will Maud do during the first part of my visit?" Saint 

asked, hesitatingly. . 

- She need not leave us so soon," suggested Mrs. Atchison. 

"And then you, Saint, do not care for Worcester," Maud added, 
^' while my heart is set on visiting the porcelain works; and Mrs. 
Atchison has kindly offered to give me a letter to a respectable 
widow, who keeps a lodging-house in Worcester. FU sta)- there a 
day or two before joining you at Gubbins Hall, and then tor London, 
and work in earnest." 



6o THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" I shall be wild to know the success of the stratagem," Barbara^ 
admitted. "You must write me, Saint, from Warwickshire, and let i' 
me know how the plot progresses." 

"I undertake it," Saint replied, " only on condition that I am to 
explain everything just when I choose. I never attempted to play al 
part before, and I do not think I shall care to keep it up long." ,> 

"You are not to play a part,'' Maud insisted. "Be simply your-*)! 
self, and onl}^ refrain from flaunting the stars and stripes in Miss) 
Featherstonhaugh's face, and she is sure to like you." 

Saint shook her head. " I have m}^ doubts," she said. I 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 6 1 



CHAPTER IV. 

maud's sketching tour. first bulletin:— WORCESTER. 

AFTER the excitement of the lawn-party quiet settled down upon 
Cosietoft. Tom and Dick returned, respectively, to Worcester 
and Oxford. Mr. Atchison spent his time chiefly at his mills in Man- 
chester; Saint and Maud were on their way to London, and Barbara 
was left to her own devices. She was a fine rider, and mounted 
upon " Prince Rupert," a dashing black horse, with Harry for her 
escort on " Oliver," a rather hard-mouthed gray-coated animal from 
Wales, who reminded them in more than one way of the illustrious 
Cromwell, for whom he was named, the two explored the charming 
reo-ion in every direction. They visited Alton Towers, and rode to 

^ . 1 -I • 

Buxton, now a fashionable watering-place, fourteen miles distant, 
where Mary Qiieen of Scots was once detained under custody of the 
Earl of Shrewsbury. She busied herself also with botanical 
studies, making a collection of British wild-flowers, in long walks 
and climbs over the "tors" or mountains in which the county 
abounds. Opposite each flower she wrote in her album some selec- 
tion written in its praise by one of the English poets. For the 
daisy, for instance, after long debate, she chose Chaucer's lines: — 

" I am up and walking in the mead, 
To see this flower against the sun spread, 
And when that it is eve I run bUthe 
As soon as ever the sun sinketh west, 
To see this flower how it will go to rest 
For fear of night — so hateth she the darkness, 
Her cheer is plainly spread in the brightness." 



62 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

These late April and early May days were just the season for 
angling, and Harry instructed her in the manufacture of elaborate 
artificial flies for the tempting of carp, barbel, chub, and perch. 
When fly-fishing proved unsuccessful they did not scruple to resort 
to the dip-net, and when minnows were their only prey Mrs. Atchi- 
son had them fried after Isaak Walton's recipe, with cowslip 
blossoms and yolks of eggs. Many an old weir and mossy mill- 
race, or willow-shaded lake, lying calm and dark like a Claude 
Lorraine mirror, many a sunshiny river, glancing and rippling over 
pebbly shallows, remained in her memory living illustrations of such 
poems as " Stoddart's Angling Reminiscences." Mr. Atchison never 
tired of hearing her sing, when he came back wearied from the 
Manchester mills; there was a joy in the fresh young voice which 
matched the words : — 

" Sing, sweet thrushes, forth and sing ! 

Meet the morn upon the lea ; 
Are the emeralds of the spring 

On the angler's trysting tree ? 
Tell, sweet thrushes, tell to me, 

Are there no buds on our willow tree } 
Buds and birds on our trysting tree ? " 

" One morning Mr. Atchison made Barbara a present of a small 
silver-hasped, chest-shaped writing-desk, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. 
" I am afraid, my daughter," he said, " that you will be lonely and 
homesick, now that your young companions have left, and I fancy 
that I have employment here for many a leisure hour. I heard you 
say that you, had a fancy for antiquarian research, and this box con- 
tains the girlhood correspondence of your great-aunt, Elizabeth Atch- 
ison. These letters were written in the early part of this century, 
and a few of them are from people who have since attained to some 
celebrity. You have a right to own them, and I only trust that they 
may furnish you some entertainment." 

Barbara accepted the gift with delighted anticipations; but it so 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



63 



:hanced that her time was so fully employed that she did not imme- 
diately examine the contents of the writing-desk. 

Soon after the girls left, a letter came from Maud, dated Worces- 
ter. Barbara shared it with Mrs. Atchison, who had become much 

interested in them all. 

"Wednesday, 10 p.m. 

"Dear Barb.,'' Maud wrote,— ^' Do thank Mrs. Atchison for me, for 
the kind introduction to Mrs. Cheritree. She made me feel at home 
at once though English customs are all so unlike our American ones. 
I am quite bewildered by the multiplicity of meals: breakfast, lunch, 
dinner, tea, and supper. However, one is not obliged to attend 
them all, and can make a selection accordmg to ones con- 

venience. 

"For a manufacturing town, Worcester is handsomer than I ex- 
pected. I have not made any sketches ol 
scenery or architecture as yet, having so far 
devoted myself to my pet hobby — china. 
This morning Mr. Tom Atchison showed 
me over the porcelain works. You can't 
tell how interesting it was to me. They 
employ about eight thousand workmen, 
and I saw antique specimens as well as 
the elegantly-shaped modern pieces in 
white and gold which we know so well in 

America. 

" I secured a quantity of photographs, and g 
made some pencil studies, which I enclose. 
You can forward them to my address at 
South Kensington. I was chiefly inter- 
ested in some vases bearing the 'exotic' ^ 
birds in their ornamentation. Dr. Prime in his 'Pottery and Porcelain 
criticises these birds as bearing no resemblance to any living species. 




64 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 




I was sure, however, that I could trace the golden pheasant, the bir 

of paradise, and some other Asiatic vari^' 
eties. You will notice that I have sent yoiitl 
pictures of other ware than Worcester. I 
never had the whole history of English por- 
celain explained clearly to me before. In a 
nut-shell it is- this: The first manufactures 
of any importance were at Chelsea and Bow, 
carried on from 1730 to 1770. 

" The Chelsea wares borrowed their orna- 
mentations from the French and from the 
Chinese, and also produced little figurines, j 
something in the way of the Dresden ShepJ' 
herdesses, which 
were also made at 
Bow. A figure of 
Flora, modelled by 
the sculptor Bacon, and executed at Bow, 
I expect to see at the South Kensino-ton 
Museum. 

"Then came Wedgewood, with his im- 
portant chemical discoveries, resulting in 
close imitations of Basaltes and Jasper, dis- 
coveries which would hardly have created 
the sensation they did had they not been 
utilized by Flaxman's skill, and blossomed 
in the beautiful reproductions of the antique 
in cameo. This seems to me an instance 
when a true artist tried his hand at decora- 
tion, without in the least degrading his art. About the same time- 
the Chelsea manufactory was merged in the Derby, in 175 1, the Wor- 
cester works sprang into notice, and have ever since maintained their 
supremacy. 




j.*****^^.^ 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



65 



" This may be very dull to you, dear Barb., but to me it is intensely 
fascinating. I have gained many practical hints, and intend to go 
right to work as soon as we are settled at South Kensington. Mr. 
Atchison told me where I could 
have my china hred, and was of 
o-reat service to me in various ways. 
He paid a complirhent to my 
taste, with which I was not over 
pleased, as it was at the expense of 
that of Americans generally. He 
assured me that I had shown dis- 
crimination by admiring correct 
forms, and then said that he had been 
told that the kind of ornamentation 
ve affected in America was the 
:wining of porcelain jugs and vases 
with imitation-satin bows -and rib- 
bons. He described one horror: a 
ewer, apparently issuing from a satin (^ 
bag, shirred and tied with a carelessly- ^| 
knotted string, which he had seen 
praised in an American newspaper. 
I could hardly believe it. It seems to 

me that we get credit for all our crudities, while our good, earnest 
work passes unnoticed. Still, as Saint says, the misunderstanding 
arises from mutual ignorance, and the more I see of the English the 
more I respect their sterling qualities. 

" The letter you handed me just as I was leaving was from Saint's 
cousin, who I told you was connected with a new scheme for starting 
a large manufactory in America. He wants me to send him designs 
for a dinner-service, — there is to be a competitive exhibition, and, con- 
siderable sums of money are to be awarded as prizes. I do not care 




66 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



I 




for the lucre, but the glory! and I shall do my best. Enough about 
porcelain. I am going to-morrow to visit the principal points of* 
interest connected with Cromwell's crowning victory here at Wor-{ 

cester. I think the career of 
that remarkable man, from the 
Battle of Marston Moor to the 
coup de grace which he gave|;| 
Charles in the streets of this old', 
city, is one of the most fascin-' 
ating of romances. After thia 
victory our sympathies go ouf; 
for the king in hiding, handedl 
from one trusty subject to an-|, • 
other, concealed in various dis- 
guises, in the ^ Priests' Hole ' of ' 
the nobleman's hall, among thel,, 
servants in the kitchen, and the] 
peasants in the cottage. I like 
to think that though a thousand 
pounds were offered for his dis- 
T'J covery, and so many people 
knew of his whereabouts, he 
was not betrayed. I wonder ^| 
wh}' it is that our interest de-j 
serts the successful side, and 
that we care no more for Cromv^ell except when we pity him beside 
the deathbed of his dearly-loved daughter. But those fierce strug- 
gles at Marston Moor, Naseby, and at Worcester stir my blood still. 
Do 3^ou remember Macaulay's description of the charge of Crom- 
well's Ironsides at Naseby 1 — 



MossDjc.Co.N.Y. 
FARNESE FLORA. 



MAUD'S SKETCHIXG TOUR. 



6^ 



^'^"i \ I / 




CROMWELL AT THE DEATHBED OF HIS DAUGHTER. 



68 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

* They are here ! They rush on ! We are broken ! We are gone 
Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast ! 

O Lord, put forth Thy might ! O Lord, defend the right ! 
Stand back to back in God's name, and fight it to the last. 

* Stout Skippon hath a wound, the centre hath given ground, ; 
Hark ! hark ! What means the trampling of horsemen on our rear ? 1 
Whose banner do I see, boys ? 'Tis he, thank God, 'tis he, boys ! j 
Bear up another minute, brave Oliver is here. 

* Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, 
Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dykes. 
Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the accurst, 
And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes. 

' Fast, fast the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide 
. Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple Bar ; 
And he — he turns, he flies; shame on those cruel eyes 
That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war,' 

"I wonder how Saint is enjoying herself, and more especially 
what kind of an impression she is making on Miss Featherstonhauo-h. 
Heigh-ho! it is growing late and I must stop. I will finish this letter 
to-morrow." 

" Thursday Morning. 

"I am scribbling for dear life in the station while awaitin^^ 
the train which is to take me to Saint. This has been an eventful 
morning. I started out early, intending to visit all the places iden- 
tified with Cromwell and King Charles. The battle of Wor- 
cester was fought for the most part in Perry Wood, about St. 
Martin's gate, and in the city streets. The cavaliers made their last 
stand in the old Hall, which ran with the blood of the Scotch and 
English. There is a curious old record in the city archives: "Paid 
for pitch and rosin to perfume the hall after the Scots — two shillings." 

" In Perry Wood, where the action began, I was shown a tree under 
which I was told the devil appeared to Cromwell, and promised him 
the victory. 




BATTLE OF MAKSTON MOOR. 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



71 



«I made a sketch of Powick-Old-Bridge, where the battle raged 
fiercely, and then climbed the grand old cathedral tower from which 
Kin.. Charles is said to have watched the slaughter of his men. 
was^delighted with the cathedral cloisters, which have been restored 
in just the right way, the original designs repeated conscientiously, 
with no frightful mutilations or anachronisms to jar upon an edu- 
cated taste. ' I noticed a gentleman sketching here, and I crept just 
near enou^^h to discover that his work was architectural, and consisted 
of geometric plans instead of pictorial effects. I was turning away 
when he suddenly became aware that he was observed and faced 

about. It was John 
Featherstonhaugh! 
Of course there was 
no backing out then, 
and we shook hands 
cordially. He in- 

quired particularly for 
Saint, and for you, and 
seemed much pleased 
to learn that she was 
with his sister, and 
you were at the Peak. 
He hoped that his 
business engagements 
would admit of his 
running home for a 
vacation during the 
summer, so you may see him one of these days. He seemed older 
and more careworn than when we met in Spain. Ask yo^^; ""^'^ '^ 
it is not possible that he is worried about money affairs. He had a 
portfolio of drawings with him which he showed me. They were 
all designs of medieval restorations. I congratulated him on being 




,1/f / 

IT WAS JOHN FEATHERSTONHAUGH. 



72 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

in his element, but he shook his head. "A man should identify him- 
self with his age," he said, "and not waste his life in repeating the 
masterpieces of bygone times. I want to supply modern needs, and 
to be useful to my own generation. 

"When I asked him how an architect could do this better than by 
perpetuating beauty, he replied that there were more vital problems 
to be solved, and explained that this was alarmingly an age of inse- 
curity in building, and that we would be looked upon in future times 
as ignorant barbarians for allowing ourselves to be burned in droves 
in theatres and in apartment-houses. He has invented a style of fire- 
escape which will be ornamental externally, and with which he pro- 
poses to decorate the fa9ades of high buildings. It is to be con- 
structed, where expense is not a consideration, of scroll-work of 
hammered iron in old Dutch and Spanish fashion; and he showed me 
some designs of balconies, and connecting lattice-work which were, 
simply beautiful. His idea is not only a humane one, but I am positivel 
that there is money in it, or would be in America. He goes fron^. 
Worcester directly to Oxford, where it is possible that we may mee4 
him again. My train is approaching. 

"Hastily, Maud." 

"And now," exclaimed Barbara, "I am impatient to hear from 
Samt. I am so curious to know her experiences with Miss Feather- 
stonhaugh." 

"We will soon have an opportunity of learning from Gladys her- 
self how your friend Miss Boylston struck her," Miss Atchison 
replied. " Harry called at the manor this morning, and ascertained | 
that she was expected to return to-morrow. Your uncle thinks we ' 
must have a yachting trip in the ^coal-scuttle' as soon as Dick's 
vacation occurs, and I believe he intends to invite Gladys to accom- 
pany us. But what is this acquaintance with John Featherstonhaugh ? 
I did not know that he had ever been in America." i 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 73 

«He was with Lord Gubbins, auntie, when we were in Spain. 
We were in the same hotel at Granada and other places. He seemed 
quite pleased with Saint, and was very obliging to all of us." 
"And what did your friend. Miss Boylston, think of him ?" 
"She does not approve of him at all; but she must change her 
mind, he is so thoroughly good-natured, and has such an honest, 
trustworthy face, that I don't see how she can help liking him even 
if he were not so refined and cultivated. Mrs. Atchison assumed a 
thoughtful expression. '' I have known John Featherstonhaugh since 
he w'ls a baby," she said, " and I know him, too, to be as good as 
he is agreeable. He is my Tom's particular friend, and I have 
had every opportunity of observing him. That was just like him. 

' To serve the present age, 
My calling to fulfil' 

He always was something of a Methodist, in feeling I mean. He has 
proved himself a good son and brother, and that is the surest guaranty 
that he will make some one an estimable husband." 



74 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



I 



1 ) 



J 



CHAPTER V. 
Maud's Sketching Tour. Bulletin Second: — Warwick 

AND KeNILWORTH. 



I ' 



A FEW days following the receipt of Maud's letter, one arrived 
from Saint. It was dated, "Oxford," and ran as follows: — 

" Beloved Barbara, — As I assured you at the outset, I was not \ 
made for guile and deception, and my poor assumption of the English 
character would have been discovered at once if Miss Featherston- 
haugh had been of a less trusting and unsuspicious nature. As it 
was, the play soon became insupportable to me, and I betrayed 
myself. 

"We left the train at Rugby, where Lord Gubbins' private con- 
veyance was in waiting, and drove across the country to Coventry. (] 
I cannot say much for the beauty of the drive, for one of those ever- 
to-be-expected April showers overtook us, and it was necessar}^ to 
have the carriage-top put up. I was a little nervous from the start, 
at finding myself in such close quarters with Miss Featherstonhaugh, 
but really we progressed remarkably well. She had an idea that I 
was educated on the continent, and this served to excuse my igno- 
rance of many English matters. I was careful, too, to observe due 
discretion, and to let her take the lead in conversation. At Rugby 
we had only a peep, through the driving rain, at the school which Dr. 
Arnold and Tom Brown have made so celebrated. I could not help 
thinking, as we made our entry into Coventry that if the weather, at 
the time Lady Godiva made her famous ride, at all resembled what 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



75 



ve were enduring, the hard-hearted earl might have allowed her a 
vaterproof, or at least an umbrella. By the way, they all call water- 
proofs ' mackintoshes,' and canes are ^walking-sticks.' I nearly ex- 
)osed my Yankee origin by referring to his lordship s cane. He 
^rushed me with ^ I'm not a tutor, you know.' It seems that rattans, 






















'%-vCy' 



used for flogging, are the only articles which they call canes. We 
had considerable amusement discussing the term ^ sendmg a person 
to Coventry'; which signifies ^declining further conversation,' or 
^ cuttincr another's acquaintance.' 1 had my own private opinion that 



76 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



I might wish the trip to Miss Featherstonhaugh, before our visit wais 
over. We lunched at the ^ King's Head,' and visited the Guildhall, 
v^^ith its fine carved roof, its tapestr}^, and armor. Then, the rain still 
pouring, we continued the journey to Gubbins Hall, a rather modermi 
structure, in the midst of a beautiful old park. The mansion is oldel^ 
than it appears, and, among other interesting apartments, contains h,\ 

private picture-gallery,',, 



with portraits by Gains^ 
borough, and other art- 
ists of less note, of all 
the different Lords an( 
Ladies Gubbins, froi 
the time that the illus-| ' 
trious name received itsH 
patent of nobility. 
Some of the old-fash-j 
ioned dresses were very I 
comical. I would like 
to see Miss Feather-I 
stonhaugh in the cos- 
tume of a Lady Gubbins i 
of 1 8 1 o. If you get up ] 
any tableaux at the 
Peak, try to persuadd 
her to take that charw 
acter. N. B. — You will need a feather-duster or so for the coiffures 

" As we entered the house, Lady Gubbins remarked that we 

i 
would hardly have time to dress for dinner. I confess that I was aiu 

little disheartened, as I saw Miss Featherstonhaugh's boxes carried | 
up-stairs, and remembered that my trunk had been sent on to Lon-' 
don, and that I had only brought a large bag. However, that hand- 
bag can do wonders, as you know, and once in the privacy of my 




MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



77 



wn apartment, the services of Lady Gubbins' maid declined, and 
ly cloth pelisse laid aside, I took out my whisk-broom, and carefully 
.rushed my faithful black silk. Then a bath freshened my spirits, 
nd with my hair newly arranged with the silver stiletto, and the 
inked collar of silver medallions that Mrs. Arnold sent me from 
Horence, and the fichu of 'black Spanish lace that you bought for me 
.t Madrid, fastened at the waist with a bunch of fresh jonquillcs, 
ivhich I found upon my dress- 



ng-table, my spirits rose to 
he occasion, and I buttoned 
)n my adjustable train, and 
3rew my lace mits over my 
elbows, with the feeling that 



^J-^O' 




Miss Featherstonhaugh might 

o her worst. The dinner ^^ 

as very formal, with ' Yellow- .^ '-"^ «^ '■'' 
plush' behind 'his lordship's' 
t:hair; and two hours spent at 
table, though there were no 
guests other than ourselves. 
After dinner we retired to 
the drawing-room, and Miss 
Featherstonhaugh and I played 
and sang alternately. She 
wore an India-muslin, with 
pale - blue trimmings, a n d 
looked glacial. She played 

selections from Handel, her yellowplush behind his lordship's chair. 
favorite composer. I find that 

nearly all the English people whom I have met think that the 
^Messiah' is the grandest composition ever written, and that noth- 
ing worthy of being called music has been produced since. I sang 



^8 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

'Now the Shades are Falling,' from Franz, which Lady Gubbins had 
never heard, though she has evidently been in society sufficiently t 
be familiar with an ordinary repertoire. Miss Featherstonhaug 
then replied with two or three of the songs without words, evidently^ 
feeling that they were something quite new. They carried me bac 
to the music-rooms at Vassar, and I remembered how I nearly cam 
to hate them from hearing them practised day after day, on ever} 
side, with every degree of exactitude and inexactitude. Then they 
insisted on my taking the piano-stool again, and I gave them a bit 
from Wagner and one from Liszt. I could see that nobody cared for 
either selection. Miss Featherstonhaugh admitted that both com- 
posers were liked on the continent, and that English people who 
spent much time in Switzerland very generally grew to like Liszt. 
So you see that we did not agree at all, and 3'et, wx each knew 
enough to respect the other's opinion; and through all, Barb., dear, \\\ 
had an absurd feeling of how very alike we were. We were each o 
us a bit afraid of the other, and yet fully conscious of our own excel- 
lencies; we were outwardly constrained and dignified and inwardly 
timid. We touched upon poetry, and there we got along better, for; 
Herrick, Motherwell, George Herbert, Shelley, and Keats are prime 
favorites with us both. Of moderns, she cares most for Edwin) 
Arnold, and — Bryant! 

"At the breakfast-table Lord Gubbins proposed that we shou^ Id 
take a look at the stables, and regretted that it was not the huntiri 
season or we should certainly have had a meet. 

"^Do you hunt?' Miss Featherstonhaugh asked, looking directlj'V 
at me. 

" ^ Oh, no indeed,' I exclaimed. "^ I am a member of the Society fo' (| 
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.' | ; 

"■^ Yes?' she replied, in a doubtful way. 'Well, it does not seenii 
quite fair, so many men, horses, and hounds, pitted against one foxi 
and to have the earth-stopper go around while the creature is out 



MAUUS SKETCHING TOUR. 



79 



feeding, and close up every one of his holes, so that he may not be 
able to run to earth, is like engaging treachery to help the stronger 
side, which is quite at variance with our old English ideas of fair 

play-' 

"'We do even worse things than that, you know,' Lord Gubbins 
added. 'My game-keeper bags as many foxes as he can during the 
season, so as to have two or three on hand whenever we have a mind 
for a hunt, then 
all we have to 
do is to have 
one let out be- 
hind a hedge, - 
while the party 
is mounting, 
and we are 
sure of our 
game. No, it's 
not fair sport 
to the fox, but 
it's sufficiently 
exciting to the 
huntsmen and 
the hounds.' 

" ' And it is a very pretty sight,' Miss Featherstonhaugh added. 
' At least, Miss Boylston, you enjoy watching the red-coated riders 
sweeping along the level ground and leaping the bars, the green- 
liveried whippers-in, and the spotted hounds in full cry.' 

« I was obliged to confess that I had never even witnessed a hunt; 
\ whereupon she gave me a wondering stare. 

" ' Ah ! you are city-bred,^ she said, at last. ' Now, in the country, 
we are like the Ephesians, entirely given over to the worship of 
Diana, goddess of hunting. 




FOX-HUNTING. 



8o THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

'■'Did you ever read an article by Charles Dudley Warner?' i 
asked (for I was so warmed up by the subject under discussion, that! 
I entirely forgot the part I was to play), on ^ Hunting, from the Deer'^J 
standpoint?' 

"^ No,' she replied. ^ Did it appear in Blackwood? ' 

" "^ In the " Atlantic," an American magazine,' I replied, with th 
pleasing consciousness that I had put my foot in it once more. M 
embarrassment was somewhat covered, however, by our rising fro 
table and preparing for the visit to the stables. 

" I cared very little for the horses, but the walk which followe 
across the park was delightful. The hawthorn was in blossom, an 
the air was filled with its delicious fragrance. The hedges, the grass 
and the trees were all washed fresh by the recent rain, and the sun 
shine flashed brightly on the white swans swimming in a little lakei| 
Lady Gubbins said she had heard a nightingale the evening before 
and other birds were flying briskly about. I happened to mentiorj 

Shakspeare's lines — 

,i 

" ' The lark that tirra lirra chants, - \ 

With hey ! with hey! the thrush and the jay.' ' 

" ' How fond he was of flowers, too,' Miss Featherstonhaugh 
remarked. ^ I wonder how many of his favorites we shall find in 
bloom during the excursion which we are to make to Stratford-upon- 
Avon.' 

"At luncheon Lord Gubbins ordered out the carriage. ^I shall 
drive to the station to meet an American young lady,' he said, "^who; 
is to join us in our expedition to-morrow to Kenilworth, Warwick,] 
and Stratford; and if you young ladies would enjoy a drive this 
afternoon I would be happy to have you accompany me.' 

" We each accepted, and then Miss Featherstonhaugh asked if the 
expected guest was by any chance the niece of Mr. Acherly Atch- 
ison, with whom she had played tennis, at Chatsworth. On being 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



83 



told that she was only a friend of hers, Miss Featherstonhaugh, 
much to my surprise, sang your praises. 

" ^ That Miss Atchison strikes me,' she said, ^ as a most deHghtful 
voung person. I was prejudiced against her, but she has quite won 
my heart. Do 30U know, I really believe she gave me that game? 
She was a very clever player, and her behavior impressed me most 
favorably.' 

"When Maud arrived, Lord Gubbins introduced her to Miss 
Featherstonhaugh, but remarked: *" I believe you have already met 
Miss Boylston.' 

"'^ At Chatsworth,' Maud replied, with a demure little twinkle. 

" But I was getting weary of the constant strain, and longed for 
some opportunity of disclosure. It came with our excursion of 3-es- 
terda}', which was one of the most interesting experiences of my life. 
We drove first to Kenilworth Castle, where Maud made a sketch, 
while wx rambled. I had carried Walter Scott's Fenilworth with 
me, but it was ver}' difficult to recognize localities, though Lord 
Gubbins was quite positi\-e as to the former position of the '■ Tilt 
Yard,' the 'Gallery Tower,' the • Pleasance,' the 'Sally-port,' and the 
'Great Gatehouse.' I looked in vain for traces of ' Mervyn's Tower,' 
in which the unfortunate Amy Robsart took refuge during her hus- 
band's reception to Qiieen Elizabeth. We read Robert Laneham's 
curious description of the merr3aiiakings on this occasion, and tried 
to realize the scene with the maskers, the floating pageants on the 
•lake, the din of the buffoons and minstrels, mingling with sounds of 
revelry, and the glare of hundreds of waxen torches upon the entry 
of the magnificeni: cavalcade of courtiers, led by the Qiieen, her pow- 
dered hair, her ruff, her brocade petticoat, and even her satin shoes 
blazing with jewels; while Leicester, her host, the handsomest and 
wickedest man in England, ' glittered at her side like a golden image, 
with jewels and cloth-of-gold.' 

"If my researches as an antiquary were crowned with but indiffer- 



84 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



ent success, Maud had a charming field, for a more poetic ruin I 

have never seen. 

" ' The hoary keep of Kenilworth, 
How mournfully and drear, 
Its turrets from the crumbling mass, 
Their broken forms uprear. 

" ' The summits crowned with verdure green, 
The wild moss creeping o'er, 
Where floating in emblazoned sheen 
The banner waved of yore.' 

"It is only five miles fi-om Kenilworth to Warwick, but the route 
abounds in so many picturesque views that Maud was constantly urging 
us to stop and let her sketch '' this little bit.' I noticed a number of inns 

with such antiquated names as 
'^ Rose and Crown,' ^ The King's 
Arms,' *" The Spotted Dog,' and 
the 'Mermaid.' 

" Near Warwick we turned 
to our left and followed an ave- 
nue of Scotch firs which led us 
to Guy's Cliff, the countr}' seat 
of Lord Pe?'cy. The story of 
Earl Guy of Warwick is wor- 
thy of being added to the 



legends of Arthur's Table 

Round. It is said that ^ Felys 

the Fayre,' who finally married 

/ this famous warrior Guy, in his 



wooing ' caused him, for her 
sake, to put himself in many 
greate distresses, dangers, and 
perils. . . . When they were wedded but a little season, con- 
sidering what he had done for a woman's sake. Sir Guy thought 




ON THE ROAD. 







QUEEN ELIZABETH. 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



87 



to besset the other part of his lyf for Goddis' sake, and departed 
from her to her great hevynes, lighting men3'e greate Battells,' 
espousing always the cause of the injured party. At last, ' unknown 
savinge to the kinge only,' he retired as a hermit to this cliff, repair- 
ing daily to the Castle of Warwick to receive alms of his lady. 




PAST QUAINT COTTAGES. 



Only on his deathbed did he make himself known to her by sending 
her a rin^. The legend adds that the countess survived him but a 
fortnight, and that they were both buried together. 

" From Guy's Cliff we hurried on to Warwick Castle, for it is 
closed to visitors after four in the afternoon. AVe were fortunate in 
havino- an hour in which to explore its treasures. Maud could hardly 
be persuaded to enter, she was so intent on transferring one of the 



88 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



ir-2C%r 



picturesque towers to her sketch-book. Although the castle his 
suffered severely by fire, it is still wonderfully rich in art and in costly 
furniture. TheVandycks especially excited Maud's enthusiasm, anij 
I found the work of Rubens and of Sir Joshua Reynolds extremel') 
interesting. Next to the pictures we both voted the old armor mosi 
fascinating. i 

" After our visit at Warwick Castle we drove on for eio^ht miles! 

past quamt cottages, and charming 
vistas, to Stratford-upon-Avon j 
where we spent the night at the 
^ Red Horse,' the inn where Irving 
lodged. In the evening we ad- 
journed to Irving's room, and 
there read aloud his charming 
description of his stay here; and 
Miss Featherstonhaugh admittec 
that America had produced at 
least two prose writers, — Irving 
and Hawthorne. 

" It was here that I threw off 
the mask of a conspirator and 
came out in my true character as^ 
an American citizen. There was 
ONE OF THE TOWERS au old piauo in the inn-parlor, and 

though it was wretchedly out of tune, Lady Gubbins insisted thai 
Miss Featherstonhaugh and I should sing something suggested by out 
• late visit to Warwick. Miss Featherstonhaugh gave us '^ The Mistle- 
toe Hung on the Castle Wall,' and I sang "^ 'Mid Pleasures anc 
Palaces.' 

" "^ That song is to Americans what " Annie Laurie " is to us Eng- 
lish,' Miss Featherstonhaugh remarked. *" I remember that my brother 
told me he should never forget the thrill which he once experienced on 




MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. ^I 

taring " Annie Laurie " sung in a foreign land. I believe it happened 
Spain when he was returning from India with you. Lord Gubbins 
d he ascertained afterward that the singer was one of the party of 
merican girls of whom I spoke to you, and in whose description he 
as far more than extravagant. He said that they were girlishly 
ithusiastic; but then it was an enthusiasm schooled by a study of 
e liberal arts to critical appreciation, and not mere indiscriminate 
ish. And it struck him as such a pleasant thing that their superior 
.vantages had not destroyed the capacity for admiration, but enabled 
em to express it the more frankly from the quiet conviction that 
ey were capable of recognizing a good thing.' 

" Lord Gubbins laughed at this speech until he fairly choked, and 
could stand it no longer. ' Miss Featherstonhaugh,' I said, ' I feel 
ce a culprit for permitting you to say so much, as I was probably 
le of the American girls of whom your brother spoke.' 

"You should have seen her expression. ^Impossible!' she ex- 
aimed. ' You are not in the least American, you have every Eng- 
jh characteristic' 

"'Come, now, Gladys,' Lady Gubbins asked, good-naturedly, 
fou don't mean to say you have not suspected for some time 
ist?' 

Not in the least; and you said you lived in Chelsea.' 
So I do,' I replied, ' Chelsea, Massachusetts, one of the suburbs 
r Boston.' 

"Then Lord Gubbins burst into a hearty fit of laughter. 'Ah! 
ladys,' he said, ' you have lost the Ascot. I vowed to take you to 
le races if you guessed our little game, but you are not so clever as 
thought you.' 

" She looked more and more bewildered. ' I have said dreadful 
lings about America, I daresay, but you ought to forgive me under 
^e circumstances.' Of course I told her that she had only been too 
omplimentary, and we shook hands as good friends, though I do not 






92 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. j 

believe in her neart of hearts she quite forgave me, or that &h 
admires me at all as I do her. Really she belongs to a fine type lo 
woman, a little bit out of the world, and with a pure, high scorn 'o 
society inanities, yet highly bred, and in her way as conventional asl 
IS possible for a charitablj-intentioned woman to be. She commanl 
my highest respect, but I believe that you would get along with h}, 
better than I. And though our experiment has been a success in ti 
way of proving to her that American girls are not so very unlike thje 
English cousins, I am positive that her heart has not been in the lea 
interested by the specimen under her consideration. 1 

" Our last day together was spent very pleasantly. Early in \A 

morning we visited Shakspeare's birthplace. I send you some flowij 

from the garden for your collection - datfodils and violets, with spri c 

of fennel and rosemary. You can easily match them with selectio t 

from his plays. We rode over to Shottery, and Maud made a drai ii 

ing of Ann Hathaway's Cottage. We stood inside the huge oA ' 

lashioned fireplace, and caught a glimpse of the sky through t)" 

broad-throated chimney, and rested ourselves on the settle whe' \ 

William and Ann must have often sat hand in hand in their wooiri'/ 

time. We made a short call too at Charlecote Park, where LoJV, 

Gubbins insisted Shakspeare never poached. Evidently a poach 'l 

conveys to his mind only the most vulgar of ideas. Our next vi 1' 

was to the church containing Shakspeare's tomb, with the inscript /' 

which has frightened so many a resurrectionist- — V 

" Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare, \ 

To dig the dust enclosed here. ,' . 

Blessed be he that spares these stones, 

And curst be he that moves my bones ! " • V 

"Lastly, we paid our respects to the new Shakspeare Memon 1 
Theatre, and we could not help regretting that we could not sto^ ^.^^i^i, 
enough to see here a representation of one of his plays. After oi.i 
return to the hotel I sang two or three of the Shaksr pearian song; 









jm. 



j\ 



<^:: 









# 



Aiv 



I 










MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



95 



which Schubert has set to music, — 'Who is Sylvia,' and 'Where the 
Bee Sucks.' Then came an early dinner, and our kind friends bade us 




SHAKSPEAKE'S TOMB. 



boil voyage 'aX. the station, where Maud and I took the afternoon train 
for Oxford, our brains buzzing with all we had seen and enjoyed. 

"Mr. Dick Atchison called on us this evening, and to-morrow 



g5 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

he is to show" us over the colleges. And you at the Peak, what are 
you doing, and whom are you making happ}^ with your merry, sun- 
shiny ways? I am impatient to get to South Kensington, where 1 1 
expect to find a long letter with a full description of your delightful' 
countr}^ life. ' Ever devotedly yours, 

" Cecilia." 

"And at Oxford," Barbara mused, "though she does not know it, 
she will probably meet John Featherstonhaugh." 



SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. 



97 



CHAPTER VI. 



SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. 



MISS FEATHERSTONHAUGH had returned to the manor, 
and Barbara set out one pleasant afternoon to call upon her. 
Harry had offered to drive her over, but she was in the mood for a 
long walk, and she declined his invitation. The sk}' was never bluer 
or the landscape more lovely; her friends had grown kinder, if pos- 
sible, and new and pleasant occupations and amusements wx-re con- 
tinually suggesting themselves, but Barbara was out of sorts. It was 
the old question which would keep coming up. Surely her beautiful 
life with all its privileges and opportunities was not given her simply 
for her own entertainment; how^then could she turn it to account? It 
was the hymn which John Featherstonhaugh had chosen for the rule 
of his life whi^ch had brought the question to light once more: — 

" To serve the present age, 
My calling to fulfil, 
O may it all my powers engage, 
To do the Master's will." 

What was to be her calling? Not music, like Saint, or art with 
Maud; she had no specialty. "I wish I had been more of a ^dig' at 
college," she said to herself, " and yet I always stood fairly in my 
classes, particularly in mechanics. If I had been a boy I would 
have finished off at the Institute of Technology, and perhaps have 
turned out an inventor, but as it is what's the use ? There is no need 
of ray doing anything. Maud is always talking about being inde- 



98 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 






pendent, and the pleasure there is in being able to stand alone. Now 
it seems to me nbsurd to stand when one has a chance to sit, and 
people are always politely shoving out easy-chairs to me." Still 
Barbara was not satisfied; she remembered the great peace that had 
come to her like a benediction that memorable day in Portugal, when 
she had resolved to trust her future implicitly in God's hands, striving- 
only to do His will. There it was again, "To do the Master's will..'" 
What did He want her to do? Superior advantages imposed mone 
of responsibility; what could she do with her education? "I wiHI 
notice sharply what Miss Featherstonhaugh is doing with hers," shc'e; 
said to herself " Perhaps I shall gain a hint." 

As she opened the wrought-iron gate a little bell jingled, but there 
was no one in the gate-lodge to notice the summons, and lookinlg; 
across the lawn she saw Miss Featherstonhaugh kneeling beside \ai 
bed of bulbs, busily engaged in potting plants with the assistance of 
a tall, stoop-shouldered boy. She arose as Barbara approached, anc|j 
drawing off her garden gloves shook hands cordially. 1 

"Do let me take a trowel and assist you," Barbara exclaimed, "iti 
is so long since I have played with fresh earth." i 

"You will soil your gown," Gladys objected. j 

"I can keep it out of the way," Barbara replied, "and as for my;; 
hands, if you only knew how delightful it seems to me to pinch the - 
moist mold you would not be surprised if you saw me making little j 
mud pies." /j 

They worked together for some time, chatting merrily about the 
flowers. The boy joined in the conversation with the freedom of a: 
privileged favorite, and showed a knowledge of plants which would; 
not have shamed a professional gardener. He removed the pots as 
soon, as they were filled to a donkey-cart which stood in the drive- 
v/a}', "Jim will drive with them to Buxton to-night," Gladys 
explained, " and will sell them at the market early in the morning." 

"Do you raise many flowers for the market? " Barbara asked. 



;i'/ t 



yc 







SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. 



lOI 



"Jim does; he is my gardener, and has certain perquisites of his 
Dwn in the way of trade. He has earned enough to purchase his 
donkey and cart, and is doing quite a thriving business." 

" He looks like a bright boy." 

" He is a born naturalist," Gladys explained, as they walked together 
toward the house, having finished the work of transplanting. " I 
found him in your uncle's cotton-mill at Manchester. Your uncle 







told me that he was dying of consumption, and hoped I could find 
him a home at one of our farms for a little while, he did not think 
it could be for long at most. I placed him in the care of our 
Abram, man-of-all-work at the lodge, and he began to pick up at 
once. Abram cares more for the stable than the garden, and he set 
Jim to work upon the flower-beds. I worked with him from time to 
time, when I saw what a passion the boy had for flowers, and lately 
I have been giving him lessons in botany. Really I think he will 



I02 ' THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

make a specialist. I must show you his fernery. He has propagated 
choice varieties for the head gardener at Chatsworth, and has receive 
a prize at one of our country fairs. The boy seems hungry fo 
knov^ledge, and it is a real pleasure to teach him." 

" How good you are ! " Barbara exclaimed softly, keen admiratior 
shining in her e3^es. 

" Oh! as for that matter," replied the other, brusquely, " I fancy i 
is all pure selfishness; there is no pleasure like it. An education 
would be hardly worth the trouble of acquiring if it were to benefit; 
onl}^ one's self." 

" Is there much need for charitable work hereabouts ! " Barbar 
inquired, timidly, " everybody looks so comfortable and neat that a 
first glance there seems very little to be done." 

"If you knew the poor as I do," Miss Featherstonhaugh replied;] 
" I am on the visiting committee for an orphan asylum, and I meetf 
such heart-rending cases of destitution. There is a queer little 
structure down in the glen, half cart, half cabin, which belongs 
to some strolling players. A woman lies there dying; she will 
leave a prett}'^ little girl two and a half years old. She is not 
related to the people with whom she is sta3nng, and they do not care 
to keep her. I went down to see them, and the mother has given thei 
child up to us, but according to the rules of our institution the child( 
cannot be received until she is an orphan, and so we are all quietly 
waiting the mother's death; the players a little sullenly, for this 
forced idleness interferes with their profits; and I heard the man who 
is the manager of the company complain because the woman did not 
'git on faster with her deein.'" 

Barbara sighed. " And I noticed their cart as I came along the I 
lane, and th9ught how picturesque and pretty it looked. Why, I even j 
half envied them the freedom of their nomad life, and fancied thatl 
I would enjoy being a gypsy myself Can't I do something for thatl 
poor woman.? Send her flowers, or jelly, or money?" ! 



SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. I05 

Miss Featherstonhaugh shook her head with a pitying smile. " She 
s beyond all that now," she replied, " and the child will soon be in 
^ood hands." "Flowers or jelly!" she thought to herself, "how 
ittle the child knows of the wants of the poor; and what do her 
dndly impulses amount to when she would not brush the hem of her 
aai;ity skirts across the sill of their door? I have another scheme,'' 
Ihe added aloud, " in which I want to interest you, and which T think 
vou will find more to your taste than work among our paupers. We 
nave a literary society, which meets at my house this evening. I 
want you to remain, and if you enjoy our proceedings join it. Jim 
will call at Cosietoft on his way to Buxton, and let Mrs. Atchison 
know that I have induced you to remain over night." 

Barbara was easily persuaded, and she found the society in every 
respect delightful. The subject for the evening was Milton. Miss 
Featherstonhaugh read a thoughtful essay, in which she paid an elo- 
quent tribute to the master-poet's "sublimity of imagery, and pomp 
of sound, as of rolling organs and the outbursting of cathedral 
choirs.'^ She drew a touching picture of the life of his wife, Mary 
Powell, and treated his three daughters, Ann, Mary, and Deborah, 
with more kindness than has been lately dealt them. At the close of 
the ess^- ^"-^ uiembers of the society read selections from " Comus," 
' _ j^'Allegro," as contrasting Milton's intense love of moral beauty 
with his enjoyment of innocent frolic. Barbara was unanimously 
elected a member of the club, and was invited to prepare a paper for 
their next meeting on the " Higher Education of Women in Amer- 
ica." It seemed to her that she had never passed a more enjoyable 
evening, and the prospect of telling this circle of cultured English 
people what their American sisters were doing fired her enthusiasm 
to the highest pitch. Long after the company had gone she talked 
over the subiect of education with Gladys Featherstonhaugh, drinking 
in with delight her description of Girton College, the red brick build- 
ino- resembling a French chateau, two miles from Cambridge, where 



Io6 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. I 

she had passed her student life. Gladys showed her photographs of 
her prett}' rooms, the walls painted in terra cotta, and tastefull 
decorated with just such studio ornamentation of peacock feathersjl 
embroidered sunflowers, Japanese umbrellas, vases, pictures, cabi 
nets, and porcelain as she had been accustomed to at Vassar. 
She was deeply interested in a view of Mary Somerville's mathe- 
matical library, w^ith a bust of that gifted woman, and in the museurri 
of Roman relics; and she turned from the photographs to run over 
Gladys' school-books on the little hanging book-shelves, to see how 
nearly the Girton course resembled that at Vassar. She had no cause 
to blush for the comparison. While she glanced curiously at somei: 
authors new to her she recognized many old favorites. Here were 
Mill's "Logic," Spencer's "Data of Ethics," Kant's "Philosophy,"! 
Venn's " Logic of Chance," Matthews on " Population," Mill's " Re- 
publican Government," Walker's "Money," with rows of small Greel i; 
books and paper-covered volumes in various modern languages* 
Miss Featherstonhaugh was practically strong in mathematics, having 
stood "eighth wrangler " in the University class, and Barbara's r'^spect 
for her increased as she explained that examination for this " tripos " 
consumed six hours daily for nine days, and ranged from differential 
calculus to optics and spherical astronomy. 

It was really very hard to go to bed that night, or to leave the next^ 
morning, when Mrs. Featherstonhaugh, the sweet-faced invalid, tooj^ I 
her into her son's room, and showed her the very portfolio of photcW 
graphs of Indian architecture which John Featherstonhaugh had himV 
self shown her in Spain. A row of neatly-drawn and colored 
dwellings were framed simply, and hung over his desk. "That is 
the work that John is proudest of," Mrs. Featherstonhaugh explained. 
" The}^ are some tenement-houses on a new plan which he designed 
and executed for your uncle's operatives at Manchester. I hear that 
they are very satisfactory in a sanitary way, as well as convenient 
and tasteful." 



r 



SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. I07 

"There he is, serving the present age again," thought Barbara, 
enviously; '' well, perhaps I will be doing a needed work if I endeavor 
to enlighten these benighted English a little concerning the real state 

of affairs in America." 

She beo-an her essa}' that afternoon, immediately after her return 
to Cosietoft, but had only written the sentence, - England and Amer- 
ica need only to understand each other better to become firm Inends," 
when she heard the voice of the senior Mr. Atchison in the hall 
below and knew that he had come back earlier than was his wont 
from Manchester. She ran down to chat with him, for they were 
fond of each other's society. She told him of her visit at Feather- 
stonhauch Manor, and how she envied Gladys her patronage of Jmi. 
"Hum," muttered Mr. Atchison, "so you would like just such a 
protege, — well, you can have him." 

"What do you mean?" Barbara asked, her eyes all aglow. 
'•^ I mean that there is a clever little fellow in Manchester, in whom 
I have been interested for some time. He has fallen into trouble 
latcJy, and needs a helping hand; if you have a mind to extend it to 
him, I shall heartily approve." 

" But who is he, and what can I do?" 

" He is a young locksmith who has had a stall on the street for a 

year past. He bu^ys second-hand keys from the dust-sifter's yard lor 

wlittle or nothing, and sells them to persons who have lost or broken 

e^heirs If a key is required for a particular lock, and he has none 

f that will exactly fit, he selects one as near , the size as possible, and a 

little ingenious filing will make it all right. He is so clever that he 

has won the name of ^ Cutery Joe,' and it is his very ingenuity which 

has brought him into trouble at last. He had a tempting ofter to 

make a key from an impression in soap, and did so, though he knew 

it was against the law. This key was used for housebreaking, and 

its manufacture was traced back to Joe. He has been imprisoned, 

fined, and forbidden to pursue his vocation lurther. I saw him 



io8 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 




to-night as I was hurrying to the station. He has been liberated, but; 
tells me that he can find no honest work, and that the thieves have 
been after him again with offers of several jobs." He told me that 
he had resolved to appeal to me before accepting their proposal; but 

that I was his last resort, and he was 
starving. I gave him a couple of shil- 
lings, and told him to call at my count- 
ing-house to-morrow." 

" Poor fellow, it does seem as if Eng- 
land might utilize his ingenuity in some 
better way than to let it help burglars. 
But what can be done?" 

"Just this. I can give him an ex- 
cellent place in the mills if he kncAV 
a little more, but the poor boy can,' i 
scarcely read, and cannot even write i 
his name. I have no doubt Mrs. Atchi-\ 
son's cook can give him sufficient employment in 'the way of scour- 
ing knives, fetching coal, paring potatoes, etc., to pay for his board, 
and if you are willing to take the time to cram him with his studies 
I think that by winter he will be sufficiently adv iced to be useful 
to me." 

"You dear, kind Cousin Acherly; it will be a boon to both of us/ 
If Harry will donate some of his old text-books, and let us hav(l 
access to his little laborator}^, I will give him something more than thA ' 
rudiments — he shall have the first principles of mechanics. I was an n 
enthusiastic student, and perhaps teaching will prove to be my forte. 
If he is to be a machinist, I know just the preparatory training he 
ought to have." 

"Very well, but don't be too theoretic and scientific." 
Cutery Joe arrived the next day. Barbara liked his face; it was 
peaked and s arp, but not bad. He brought his kit of tools with him, 



THE STREET LOCKSMITH. 



SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. 1 09 

Lnd was delighted with the turning-lathe, small forge, and other 
equipments of Harry's laboratory. Barbara began her tasks as private 
tutor with such zest that for several days the essay "on Education in 
America," was quite forgotten. One morning she opened her desk 
for writing materials, and the sheet of paper with the opening sen- 
tence of the essay stared her in the face. " I must go right to work 
upon it," she thought, "or the time for the regular meeting ol the 
society will fly round, and I will not be prepared." She wrote 
eao-erlV hour after hour, quite unmindful of fatigue, for her heart was 
in'the work, — her national pride was touched as well as her love for 
her Alma Mater. She wanted her audience to understand all the 
excellences of her beloved Vassar. Quite a pile of manuscript lay 
on the desk beside her, — it was time to think of drawing the essay to 
a close, or it would take an unconscionable time in the reading. Just 
then the maid entered the room and handed her a card, — Miss 
Featherstonhaugh. She laid aside her pen and ran down to the 
drawing-room with flushed cheeks. Gladys had been conversmg 
with Mrs. Atchison, and Barbara heard the latter say, " It is really a 
very sad case. I will go in to Manchester and see if I can get the' 
poor thing admitted to some hospital." 

"Who is it?"- ^>arbara asked. " Is it the mother of the little girl 
of whom you spoke to me?" 

V. ^^The mother died ^-esterday," Glad3's replied, "and the people 
elame to me at once to have the child taken away; but in this interval 
tthe poor little thing has been taken ill with scarlet fover, and the 
managers of the orphan asylum very properly refuse to receive her 
for foar of contagion for the other inmates. The people threaten to 
leave her in a ditch, and have announced their intention of travelling 
on without her to-morrow morning. I had hoped that Mrs. Atchison 
might know of some woman who could be induced by good wages to 
nurse the^child until she recovers, when the asylum is ready to receive 
her." \ 



no THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 4j 

A pained look crossed Mrs. Atchison's kind face. " I will take 
her into this house gladly," she said, " if I can induce any of the 
maids to take care of her." 

"Oh! will you, auntie?" Barbara exclaimed, with delight, "then 
let me nurse the little thing; for once in my life I shall be doing 
something really useful." 

"You!" exclaimed both Mrs. Atchison and Miss Featherston- 
haugh, in unanimous surprise. 

"Why npt, it can't be so' very difficult, the doctor will tell me' 
what to do." 

"But how about your essay for our club?" asked Miss Feather- ( 
stonhaugh. 

" Oh! that is nearly written, and I daresay I shall have plenty of 
time to finish it between doses." - 

"But you can't read it, m}^ dear," explained Mrs. Atchison; "you/ 
forget that you will have to be isolated from every one on account of li 
contagion. You would have to remain a prisoner in your own room,[j 
with only a solitary walk in the park occasionally by way of diver-!;! 
sion. I fear your health will give way, and I do not think I can, 
allow'it." 

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Barbara. "I am thoroughly well, and \ 
equal to an}^ kind of a strain. Of the two things it is a great deal Z* 
more important that this baby should be taken care of than that the(,i 
club should enjoy my essay, inestimable privilege though it woulfld 
doubtless be. Where is the child? Shall I go with you, Misk 
Featherstonhaugh, — how are we to bring her here?" She spoke 
gayly, and Gladys could not guess what a trial it was to her to give 'j 
up the reading. 

Mrs. Atchison rang for a servant. " Have the phaeton brought to 
the door at once," she said; adding to Barbara, "well, my dear, since 
you are determined upon it, I will 'not forbid you, only if I see that 
your health is suffering you must let me interfere. I will see imme- 



SWEET GIRL GRADUATES. 



Ill 



liately that a cot is placed in your room, and everything shall be 
n readiness for the child's reception." 

As Barbara flew up-stairs for her hat and wraps she met Joe. 
'You poor fellow!" she exclaimed, "must I give up teaching you, I 

vonder." 

" What's up, Miss ? " Joe asked, anxiously. 




^C^^"^^ ■:: ^^^^^ 



AT THE CABIN DOOR. 

Barbara explained the facts in the case, and Joe replied eagerly. 
r I'm in luck. Miss, I've had it. 'Twon't do me no harm to come into 
the room and say my lessons. Mebbe I can help you too in nussin' 
the little un." 

"I don't know about that," Barbara replied; "we must keep as 
solated as possible on account of the family, but perhaps we can 
meet for recitation on the upper piazza just outside my whidow, where 
I can watch the child and run to her if she cries." 



1 



112 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" I'll drive you over to the shanty," Joe volunteered. " 'Taint i 
likely Mrs. Atchison would like to have Master Harry expose hisself 
and the coachman w^ould lose his situation first." 

Gladys parted fi^om them at the cabin-door. "You must read us 
your essay when 3^ou are out of quarantine," she said, " and meantime 
I want you to know that I have underestimated you, but I shall dc 
so no longer. You are braver and more unselfish than I could ever 

be. You are the noblest girl that I have ever know^n." f, 

I 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 113 



CHAPTER VII. 

maud's sketching tour. bulletin three:— the THAMES. 

-pHE days crept slowly by and spring glided into summer. The 
1 task which Barbara had imposed upon herself was more wear- 
ng than she had imagined. The loneliness, the lack of sleep, and 
he constant care were a strain under which even her fine physique 
3ent slightly, but she was too proud and too unselfish to complain. 
She bore up bravely from day to day, amusing her little charge with 
^ames and dolls, as after the crisis the peevishness of convalescence 
:00k the place of more alarming symptoms. Mrs. Atchison allowed 
|oe to act as nurse daily for half an hour, so that Barbara could keep 
up her habit of a walk in the grounds, and the lessons were continued 
an the verandah roof as Barbara had suggested, while the small 
patient enjoyed her afternoon nap. These lessons were her only 
uiiusement, for Joe progressed rapidly, and was profoundly grateful. 
Mrs. Atchison prepared tempting little lunches, and Miss Featherston- 
haugh sent in books and periodicals, but Barbara found that the 
double task of nursing and teaching left her too tired to read any- 
thing but letters. These came at regular intervals from her father in 
America, and from Saint and Maud. One arrived from Saint early 
in Barbara's imprisonment, and we will glance over her shoulder 

while she reads it. 

"On the Thames. 
" Beloved Barbara, — I am seated in a row-boat and scratching 
away upon one of Maud's sketching-blocks while we drift evenly and 
o-ently down the stream. How I came in just this situation I will 



H 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



\ 



leave for further development, as I think a consecutive story is th 
least confusing, and I believe Maud wrote you last just after our 
arrival in Oxford. 

"We stopped at the Randolph Hotel, which Mr. Atchison recom- 
mended, and Dick paid his respects to us early in the evening. The 
next day he very kindly took us about every where, — to Christ ChurchJ 
Oriel, Merton, and Magdalen Colleges in the "morning, and to otheif''' 

places of intetestf 
in the afternooni 
Magdalen is by fa^| 
the 



most interest-! 
ingto me, although! 
Christ Church is" 
more pretentious 
architecturally, and 
its kitchens are 
V e r 3' curious. 
There are some old 
symbolic images in 
the Magdalen 
quadrangle which 
are funny beyond 
description. They 
represent the Vir- 
tues and the Vices, 
and reminded me 
Dick informed us that 




MAKING UP THE JOURNAL. 



of the gargoyles we saw at Batalha in Portugal 
his sister, Mrs. Isham, and her reverend husband, were to come to 
Oxford that afternoon, Mr. Isham to attend some ecclesiastical coun- 
cil, and Mrs. Isham to grace with him a grand dinner at the house 
of the Canon of something or other. We met her at luncheon ; she 
was very sweet and lovely, and reminded me of her mother; Mr. 



MARY PLIGHTING HER TROTHt^ 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. II7 

Isham is a jolly, red-faced man, not in the least one's idea of a clergy- 
man. She inquired how long we intended to stay in Oxford, and 
thought two days entirely too short a time. Dick lamented that we 
had not waited for Commemoration Week in June, when the place is 
very gay, and he insisted that we must have a picnic somewhere to 
try the boating. Then Mrs. Isham proposed a charming plan, which 
we have since" carried out. ' I do not care to remain in Oxford after 
the dinner,' she said; Svhy can't you let me chaperone the young 
ladies, and we will hire a boat and make a rowing-party down the 
river to our home. I would enjoy such an outing immensely.' The 
Ishams live at Great Marlow, about eighteen miles from Wind- 
sor, and over fifty from Oxford. This will give us three days on the 
river, with stops at all sorts of enchanting places and a visit at Mrs. 
Isham's as a finale. Of course we were delighted at her goodness, 
and accepted with enthusiasm. Dick said that as Mr. Isham was 
obliged to remain to the council, and one oarsman was rather a 
smatl working crew, he would like to have the privilege of inviting 
a friend to Thare the excursion. He informed us that there were 
some thirty Americans studying at Oxford, and that he knew one, a 
heretical but bright young man from Chicago, who was one of the 
Baliol set, whom he thought we would all like. Mrs. Isham gave 
him carte blanche, and of course we had nothing to say. 

The afternoon was devoted to more colleges, — Queen's, New Col- 
lege with its lovely gardens, All Souls with its interesting library 
quadrangle. Brasenose, an actual nose sniffing the air over the 
entrance, the Bodleian Library, the Martyr's Memorial, erected to 
Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, who were burned here in T555; the 
Taylor Institute, with its gallery of paintings, and its original draw- 
ings by Raphael and Michael Angelo, and the Observatory in the 
ev^'ening. Saturn with his rings looked just as familiar as the last 
time he looked in upon us at one of Miss Mitchell's observatory 
receptions. We had seen a great deal too much for one day; but I 



Il8 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 'j 

think that the Martyrs' Memorial made the deepest impression on my 
mind. It took me back to the relics of the Inquisition which we saw 
in Spain, and I dreamed that night that I was wandering in the gloomy 
labyrinths of the Escorial. There was an odd method in my mad- 
ness, too, for it was for love of Philip II. of Spain that Queen Mary 
planted the Inquisition in England. I think her constancy and devo- 
tion to that man, from the time that she secreth' plighted her troth to 
him before the Virgin in her private chapel, th1"ough the long list of 
her terrible but conscientious crimes, down to her death, forsaken- and 
broken-hearted, — is one of the most pitiful pages in history. 

" Our last day I insisted rather selfishly on driving to Blenheim, 
the site of Woodstock, and the famous maze in which Henry II. hid 
Rosamond Clifford from Queen Eleanor. Maud was very sweet in 
giving up some sketching in Oxford to my mania for following up the 
Waverley Novels, but I do not think that after it was over she regretted 
the day, for we had a charming drive in an odd little jaunting-car, 
with a queer character for a driver, a perfect enc3''clopaedia in the way 
of local information. There is not a vestige of the original ^ Bower.' 
The place was given by the nation to the Duke of Marlborough, and 
named for his great victory. He erected a grand palace here, with a 
rich picture-galler}^ and other delights which I cannot begin to 
describe. The park is ingeniously planted in groups of oaks and 
cedars to represent the battle of Blenheim, each battalion of soldiers 
being figured by a distinct plantation of trees. Southey's poem, 
M^hich I learned when a ver}^ little girl, would keep perversely running 
in my head, and I could not refrain from asking: — 

""^But what good came of it at last?' with little Peterkin. 

"On our return to Oxford in the evening, a very odd thing hap- 
pened. Dick Atchison called to say that he had secured another 
oarsman for our excursion. And of all persons in the world whom 
do you think it turned out to be.^ None other than John Feather- 
stonhaugh. It seems that Dick happened to come a:cross him here in 




i'ajJiiiife:'^ 



^<^^ 



^>^ 



^■??' 



BLENHEIM. 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. I2i 

Oxford, that he is on his way to Windsor, and that he accepted very 
complaisantly the offer of a bench and an oar in our boat. So here 
Ave are booked for a three da3's tete-a-tete. If he conducts himself 
as well as he has done this morning I shall have no cause to com- 
plain. So far he has devoted himself very gallantly to Mrs. Isham, 
and as Maud and Dick are capital friends, I sit in the stern, mind 
the rudder on occasion, and scribble to you. An opportunity has just 
occurred to post this letter. 

" Hastily, Cecilia." 

The boating-trip down the Thames proved a most delightful expe- 
rience. The more the girls saAV of Mrs. Isham the more the}' felt 
themselves drawn to the lovely little lad}'. Though habitually cheer- 
ful and animated, they noticed that when the conversation lagged a 
pensive shade crossed her face, and she would remain for some time 
silent and distraught. Dick gave Maud the clew to her melancholy. 
She had lost a little daughter a year before, and this visit to Oxford 
had been her first appearance among her friends since the sad event. 
He hoped that this excursion would do her good, and the party one 
and all exerted themselves to draw her out of herself. 

They had passed a quiet Sunday at Oxford, and had started on 
their trip so early Monday morning that they breakfasted at Nune- 
ham, a favorite spot for picnics from Oxford, and one of the most 
enchanting little Edens on the river. They moored their boat close 
to the bank, and spread their cloth within view of the graceful bridge. 
Dick had coffee made at one of the cottages, and Mrs. Isham dis- 
played the cold luncheon which she had put up at Oxford. A boy 
happened along with a cabbage-leaf filled with tempting strawberries, 
and they ate with appetites sharpened by the early pull down the 
river. After breakfast they strolled together over the park belonging 
to the mansion of the Harcourt family, inspecting its tasteful gardens, 
with their terraces, orangeries, and rosaries, and rambling by many 



122 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



charming cottages. Maud made a hasty sketch of the bridge, and "' 
then all embarked for a steady row to Day's Lock, with only a peep 

at Abingdon on the way. The locks were an interesting feature to ( 

the girls, as were the picturesque inns which marked their 'progress. ' 




PICNIC AT NUNEHAM. 



They lunched at the " Barley Mow," and Saint began a list of the 
suggestive names of riverside hostelries. Slipping under Shillingford 
Bridge, and cheering their flagging energies with the " Canadian Boat- 
song," the party drew in their oars at Wallingford, deciding to spend 
the night at the " Town Arms." After dinner Dick announced his 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



123 



intention of looking up a fisherman of his acquaintance by the name 
of Cloudesley. 

"Is he a descendant of the outlaw of that name?" Maud asked. 
" Don't 3'ou remember, 

Saint, '■ Clim of the ' \ 

Cleugh, and William of .li'liilr';. 

Cloudesley,' \\\ the old 
ballad that Bishop Coxe 
read us one evening 
at Vassar? " 

"He is so ver}- re- ,,,^^ 
spectable," Dick re- ^^^^p£ : 

plied, "that I tear he ^ 
would resent the idea. 

Dick departed in 
search of his aquatic 
acquaintance, and the 
others followed John 
Featherstonhaugh's 
guidance in a visit to 
the ruins of the castle 
where the Empress 
Maud was besieged by 
King Stephen after her 
flight from Oxford. 

"I wonder w^hy it 
is," Maud asked, " that 
Dick persisted in calling me Empress Maud after the party at Chats- 
worth? I was not trying to escape from any one." 

"When Maud fled from Oxford," John Featherstonhaugh replied, 
" it was a winter night, and she had her attendants dressed in white 
to escape observation as they glided over the snow." 




ESCAPE OF EMPRESS MAUD. 



124 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" And I wore white at the lawn-party, but not from fear of any 
King Stephen." 

"Was it not rather to attract the attention of Oxford?" Saint 
asked, mischievously. 

"Now, Saint, that is really malicious. I decline your company 
home after such unkindness. I am going to escort Mrs. Isham, and 
leave you to Mr. Featherstonhaugh." 

"Is my society to be considered in the light of a penalty?" the 
young architect asked, as he took his place respectfully by Saint's 
side. 

"Mrs. \7m. Vechten tells me you have been visiting with my sis- 
ter; I should like to have your opinion of her." 

"It is doubtless higher than hers of me. I was a part}^ to a little 
trick whose bearings I do not think I entirely realized at the time;" 
and Saint gave the young man a detailed account of her experiences 
in Warwickshire. 

" Gladys can enjoy a joke even at her own expense," John Feather- 
stonhaugh replied. "I wonder what her impressions of Miss Atchi- 
son were. She would hardly have taken her for an English girl. 

Saint took this as an aspersion against her friend, and fired up at 
once. " If she ever really knows Barb," she said, " she will discover 
that she is worth ten such girls as I am." 

John Featherstonhaugh smiled oddly; "It would be hardly polite 
for me to agree with you," he replied. 

The second day they pursued their journey as far as Sonning, 
making their longest halt at Mapledurham, which Maud agreed had 
been rightly called a Painter's Paradise. Here they left their boat 
with the keeper of the lock to be brought on to them at the Roe- 
buck Inn, a mile further down the river. They then hired a wagon- 
ette and drove to Hardwicke House, a fine old Tudor mansion, one 
of the hiding-places of Charles II. Their drive took them past the 
Mapledurham Mill as well, the most paintable on the river; but when 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. I 25 

Maud attempted to use her pencils she found that the rowing in which 
she had indulged freely the day before had cramped and blistered her 
hands to such an extent that sketching was out of the question. As 
they passed the seat of the Blounts John Featherstonhaugh explained 
the characteristics of the Elizabethan style of architecture, with its 
broad expanses of windows, letting sheets of light into every 
apartment. "You must have noticed this peculiarity at the Peak," 
he said, " and perhaps have heard the couplet, — 

" ' Haddon Hall 
More glass than wall.' ' 

From the Elizabethan he branched oft' to a short explanation of 
the Queen Anne style, and the ride to the Roebuck Inn seemed to all 
a remarkably short one. They lunched leisurely, for their boat was 
not in sight; and it was not until Dick had searched vigorously for 
some time that he discovered that the lock-keeper's shockheaded 
boy had moored it under the willows, and was calmly fishing for 
chub. "Don't stop to go snipe-shooting on your way back," was 
Dick's parting injunction, as he gave the wagonette into the charge 
of the culprit, and assisted the girls once more into the boat. 

" I shall not row again to-day," Maud said, rather ruefully, as she 
regarded her blistered hands. "I can\ aftord to lose these lovely 



views 



There is no need of any of us taking an oar this afternoon," Dick 
replied. " There is a good bit of towing as you near Sonning." 
"You don't mean to go down in the wake of a steam-launch?" 
" Or to engage a boy and horse in canal-boat style ? " 
"No, indeed; two of us will take a line and run along the parade 
on the margin of the river. It gives a change of exercise, and is the 
regular thing which all pleasure-parties do about here." 

This v/as indeed a novel experience. All the length of the tow-- 
path they overtook and were passed by merry parties of young 



126 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



men in gay boating costumes, and young girls, evidently from the, 
best circles of English societ}^, tripping gayly along with their boatsj 
in tow; and very often their comfortable mammas seated composedly! 
therein, regarding their lively teams with serene complaisance. Whilej: 
Maud and Dick carried the towing-line together they compared their 

plans for the future. " 1|'. 
know you won't believe; 
it," Dick said, after listen4 
ing to Maud for a time,*^ 
" but I mean to be a 
worker, too." 

"In what line, pray?" 
" In father's. I am go- 
ing to have him start me 




m 



as a manufacturer 
America." 

" In America.^ " 
" Yes, everything is 
moving that vvay, and 
father invested in some 
land in Alabama v/hen he 
was over there. There's 
immense water-power on 
it, and he means to put 
up a mill. It is in one 
of the cotton-producing 
States, and there are 
hordes of negroes all 
around who need employment. I , have about persuaded father 
to let me go over and run the thing for him as soon as I am grad- 
uated." 

"The idea quite fires one's imagination, but will it pay?" 



(U<^6«. 



ON THE TOW-PATH. 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 1 27 H 

" It will pay fast enough if lather makes up his mind to undertake it. 
He is slow and sure. It would kill me to settle down in Manchester, 
and just grind on in lather's footsteps. I want to found an enter- 
prise of my own. Now Tom is a regular conservative, but circum- 
stances lately have led my consideration to the States; they are bound 
to 0-0 ahead of us in the future, and I want to be one of the new 
movement. All wide-awake men are looking toward America. 
Gladstone agrees with me." 

Maud smiled at the unconscious arrogance with which this asser- 
tion was made. 

" When did you explain your opinions to Gladstone ? " she inquired, 

demurely. 

Dick flushed. '' I have gained them in part from him," he con- 
fessed. " I had a thesis on America in which I quoted from him 
largely, and can reel off his very words. He believes that you are 
going to run us out on manufactures and in commercial pre-eminence. 
He says, ' America will probably become, what we are now, the head 
servant in the great household of the world, the emp:oyer of all 
employed, because her service will be the most and ablest. . We have 
no more title against her than Venice, or Genoa, or Holland has had 

against us.' " 

" That is generous I am sure. I have a better opinion of Glad- 
stone than ever before, and that's saying a great deal. But how will 
Miss Featherstonhaugh enjoy emigrating to America ? " 

"Gladys? Oh! she and Tom are of one mind; they would both 
be content to stay in England forever." 

" But I thought you admired her especially." 

" I'm in duty bound to do so since she is to be my sister some day." 

"Is she engaged to your brother Tom? " 

"Yes, that was all satisfactorily arranged when they were in pina- 
fores. It is a Hngering complaint, and there is no telling just when 
it will prove fatal, though I believe it is considered quite incurable." 



12; 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



"What hinders their being married at once?" 

" Gladys is too good a daughter to take her mother away from the 
Manor, or to leave her for any long period, and Worcester is rather a 
longish distance from the Peak. So they have concluded to vv^ait. 
It's quite the regular way here in England. Jacob and Rachel are 
nothing in comparison." 

While Maud and Dick were on the tow-path Saint sat dreamily 
a: the helm listening to John Featherstonhaugh's pleasant voice as he 
read from a volume of poems. The finely-modulated cadences 
seemed to keep time with the soft thud of the waves against the side 
of the boat, as the current swirled on, reminding her of the " master- 
poet's " description of the Avon. 

" Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
It overtaketh in its pilgrimage." 

Mrs. Isham's slender fingers were busy with some gossamer 
crochet, and a sweet smile lit her face. Sad thoughts had vanished, 
and her attention was held by the story. Saint could not have told 
what the poem was, but the picture remained long in her memory — 
the shimmer of light upon the water, the puffs of cool air playing 
with Mrs. Isham's beautiful hair, and John Featherstonhaugh's intel- 
ligent, manly face. 

" There is something in him that I really respect and like," she 
thought to herself, "if he will only please not like me; and indeed he 
is doing very well, he is actually endurable." 

They put up that night at the " French Horn," and made an early 
fishing-party the next morning, catching a good basket of trout, bar- 
bel, and perch in the lock pools before breakfast. They passed 
Henley that morning, noted for its swans, its beautiful old church, 
and for the annual regatta which Charles Reade describes in " Very 
Hard Cash." The longest halts of the da}' were made at Medmen- 
ham and Bisham Abbey — picturesque old structures in the midst of 
country filled with charming cottages nearly covered with greenery, 









I 




MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



131 



fascinating moated granges, churches covered with ivy, and suggestive 
gHmpses of village spires over clustering foliage. Just as evening fell 
they drew^ in their oars at Marlow Bridge, where Mrs. Isham's 
phaeton was found awaiting them. Mrs. Isham and the girls drove 
across to the vicarage, while Dick and John Featherstonhaugh 
bestowed the boat in proper keeping and followed them on foot. 
The vicarage had every appearance of being the home of cultivated 
and happy people, but on entering her own doorway the shadow 
which had been lifted for a time from Mrs. Isham's face fell once 
more, and she was unable to join them at dinner. A crayon head 
of the little child whom she had lost hung over the mantel, and all 
conversed that evening in more subdued tones. Saint seated herself 
at the piano and sang a selection from "Jean Ingelow," to which she 
had herself composed a simple but sympathetic accompaniment: — 

" When I remember something which I had, 

But which is gone, and I must do without, 
I sometimes wonder how I can be glad. 

Even in cowslip time, Avhen hedges sprout, 
It makes me sigh to think on it, but yet 

My days will not be better days should I forget." 

Mrs. Isham, sitting in her darkened room with the door ajar, heard 
it and was comforted. 

They had planned to part here; Dick to return to Oxford, and the 
girls to continue their journe}^ to London by rail. But John Feather- 
stonhaugh's destination was Windsor, and Dick pleaded so strongly for 
one more day on the river that the girls relented; and, bidding a regret- 
ful farewell to Mrs. Isham, the next day found them once more in 
their boat. From Marlow to Windsor the scenery increases in love- 
liness; Cookham, Ray Mead, Cliveden, have all been praised by poet 
and artist. They left their boat at Maidenhead for a drive to the 
celebrated Burnham Beeches, — a grove of gnarled and hoary giants 
which Maud declared were each of them enchanted Druids, stiffened 



132 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



to trees in the act of extending their gaunt arms at one of their mys- 
terious orgies. A brisk row from Maidenhead brought them to 
Monkey Island, named from a room in this inn, once a pleasure-house 
of the Duke of Marlborough, and grotesquely frescoed by him with 
frolicsome monkeys. They progressed during the afternoon chiefly 
by towing. They passed Windsor, intending to visit Eton and to 
return in time to dine at the "White Hart," where they would separ- 
ate. They threaded the border of the royal park, walking through 



i^^^^T^)}^.' 




GUIDING THE RUDDER. 



her majesty's private property, where none but persons towing a boat 
were allowed on shore. The}' glanced about from time to time, half 
expecting to meet some member of the royal household, and enliv- 
ened the way with the pleasant confidential chat with which friends 
will fill their last hours together. Maud and Dick talked of America, 
Maud taking an almost maternal interest in the young man's plans. 
She thought him very immature, and considered that she was im- 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. jo^ 



mensely his superior in experience and in knowledge of the world, 
but for all this he interested her, and she gave him a great deal of 
valuable information touching the New World, to which he was 
going. 

Was there something confidence-provoking in the clear blue sk}- 
and delicious air? Saint and John Featherstonhaugh, in the gently- 
moving boat, were at the same time conversing without restraint in a 
frank and friendly "fashion, which a few days previous Saint would 
hardl}' have thought possible. " He is really a very good fellow," she 
thought. "I wish he were my brother"; and then he entirely de- 
stro3'ed the good opinion which she had grudgingly granted him by 
saying: — 

"Miss Boylston, I cannot flatter myself that you recollect it, but 
once in Portugal I was very near telling you a secret which has an 
important bearing on my life." 

Saint stiffened at once, leaned back in her seat, and tightened her 
grasp on the rudder-ropes. "I wish he would keep his secrets to him- 
self," she thought, and she added aloud, " Secrets are unpleasant things. 
I really believe we would be better friends if you did not trust me 
with yours. I might betra}' it or something." 

"I do not care how soon you betra}' it, indeed I cannot keep it 
any longer myself." 

"O dear," she thought again, "this is quite hopeless; well, if he 
-will bring it upon himself it is not my fault. I have done all I could 
to keep him from speaking.'' 

" I want your advice," John Featherstonhaugh w^ent on. 

" I think I have alread}^ given it," Saint replied, looking away 
toward Maud, and waving her veil in the vain hope that she would 
come to the rescue. 

"But 3^ou do not know the circumstances of the case. It's the old 
stor3^ I want to know whether you think I can make myself worthy 
of some one of whom I am very fond." 



134 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" It isn't a question of being worthy. It is whether she cares suffi- 
ciently for you." 

"And 'you are in the position to give me that information. A 
touch to the rudder now may give a different direction to my life' 
course.' 

Saint was driven to desperation. " I had rather you had not asked 
me the question," she replied, " for I am sure my answer will not 




WINDSOR CASTLE. 



please you." It was on her lip to add: " I do not wish to marry any 
one. I could never care for an}^ person as I do for my music," — 7 but 
something made her pause, and ask abruptly, " but you have not told 
me who she is? " 

That evening Maud wrote from Windsor: — 

"Dearest Barb, — We are having the most charming time con- 
ceivable. I sent you the pencilled jottings in my diary from Marlow, 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. I,y 

but I neglected to tell 3011 that I have urged Mrs. Isham to make a 
visit at her father's house while you are there. I believe you onlv 
can permanently cheer her up. You are a sunbeam, Barb, and it 
is 3^our province in life to gladden people's hearts. And you will 
alwa3-s have your hands full. You know Confucius sa3's, ' Make 
happy those that are near, and those that are far will come.' 

"We had a ver3^ pleasant run down the river from Marlow, with a 
good deal of towing, while Dick and I had charge of the lines. I 
should judge that Saint and John Featherstonhaugh had some ver3' 
interesting conversation. At least they were quite oblivious to the 
most remarkable points in the scener3-, and allowed us to walk along 
the tow-path until I was nearl3' read3' ^° drop, without once offering 
to take the lines. Moreover Saint's attitude toward the 3^oung man 
has entirel}' changed. ^- He seems to meet with 3'our unquaHfied 
approval,' I said to her just now, and she replied that she had never 
had but one objection to him. ^Then he has not freed his mind?' 
I asked. ^ Completel3^, and I think he was rather pleased with m3' 
answer.' I must confess that I was thunderstruck. ' You don't mean 
to sa3^ that 3'ou encouraged him! ' I exclaimed. 

" She smiled in her calmest and most provoking wa3\ ^ All in 
m3' power,' she said, and refused to add another Avord. However, 
she has promised to tell me everything to-morrow when I go out to 
sketch Windsor Castle. 

'*" Dick has gone back to Oxford, and John Featherstonhaugh has 
also departed, but he is to show us over the Castle to-morrow. 
We are staying at the ''Star and Garter" of the Merrie Wives of 
Windsor, for merrie maids are we. Ever34hing hereabouts is ver3' 
fascinating, but we can onl3' stop long enough for a peep at Stoke 
Pogis, where Gra3' wrote his "Eleg3'; " then Hampton Court, Rich- 
mond, and London, with its solid work at South Kensington. 
" My light burns low. 

" Lovingly, Maud." 



U8 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" I subjoin Saint's list of Thames River hostleries: The Plough, 
the Crown and Thistle, King's Arms, the Nag's Head, the Rising 
Sun, the Anchor, the Swan, White Hart, the Lamb, the Feathers, 
the Beetle and Wedge, the Leather Bottle, the Bull, the Miller 
of Mansfield, the Elephant and Castle, Cross Keys, the Dread- 
nought, the French Horn, the Angel, Red Lion, the Catherine 
Wheel, Carpenters' Arms, Two Brewers, the Bear, the Flower- 
pot, George and Dragon, the Anglers, Fisherman's Retreat, Sara- 
cen's Head, Star and Garter, the Crown and Cushion, Royal Oak, 
Royal Stag, Morning Star, Bells of Ousle}^, the Packhorse, the 
Cricketers, the Horseshoes, the Old Manor, the Magpie, the Mitre, 
the Griffin, the Outrigger, the Ram, the King's Head, Three 
PigeonSj Compasses, Old Ship, and the London Apprentice. Are 
they not amusing?" 



BARBARA'S LOG. jog 



CHAPTER VIII. 
Barbara's log. — chip the first. 

JUNE was dying into July. The air, even at the Peak, was warm 
and close, while at Manchester it was suffocating. Barbara's 
little charge had entirely recovered, and was running merrily about 
the house, winning all hearts with her childish prattle; but Barbara 
herself drooped. She lay listlessly upon the sofa, only rousing to 
hear Joe's lessons or to aid in stitching the little frocks which Mrs. 
Atchison had cut for Tina. She was not really ill, she declared, as 
Mr. Atchison took her languid hand in his large and kindly one, only 
tired; she would be rested by-and-by. 

" ril tell you what will rest 3'ou, and what we all need," he re- 
plied, "a yachting trip. It is time we organized our cruise in the 
" Coal-Scuttle." Dick will be back from Oxford in a few days. Tom 
can't leave his business at Worcester, poor fellow, but we'll invite 
Glad3-s to represent him, and we'll have Ethel up' from Great Marlow. 
Your friend was right when she wrote that onl}' you, Barbara, could 
cheer her and draw her out of herself, but 3'ou can't do that without 
cheering up a little yourself first. Joe shall go too; we'll put him in as 
assistant engineer, the butler shall be steward, and one of the house- 
maids stewardess. Dick shall run down to Liverpool and engage 
two or three able seamen as crew, and we'll load in a cord or so of 
novels as ballast. Then we'll pack the baby off to the As3^1um, 
weigh anchor, and 3'ou shall keep the log. What do 3'ou sa3^ to 
the plan, eh, Barbara? " 

" I like it all but the leaving out of Tina. Wh3^ not take her 
with us ? " 



J .Q THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" I am afraid she will remind Ethel too strongly of the little one 
she has lost. However, it ma}^ not be so; we will see how the child 
affects her when she arrives." 

"Where shall we go, Cousin Acherly?" 

" From the Isle of Man to the Isle of Wight. This will take us 
down the Welsh coast and along the south of England. Then we 
could have your friends from London to meet us, and make a run 
with them across the channel. Or, if you are tired by that time of 
salt-water, we'll send the crew back with the yacht, and we'll go up to 
London ourselves, and spend a few weeks in town. Ah! 3'Our color 
begins to brighten ! That's good. We'll sail at the earliest possible 
moment." 

Barbara in looking over her effects to decide what should fill the 
lockers of her stateroom, opened once more the silver-hasped desk 
which had once belonged to her great-aunt Atchison. "Uncle 
Acherly spoke of laying in a supply of novels," she said to herself. 
" I am sure these letters look a great deal more fascinating. Why, 
here is one from Lady Morgan, the authoress, and another from the 
Countess of Craven, who was once an actress at Covent Garden, and 
here is quite a little packet from Her Grace the Duchess of Devon- 
shire, the friend of Fox and the Whigs. We will keep them for 
rainy-day reading in the cabin, for I am sure that Gladys will be as 
much interested in them as I." 

Just then her eye fell upon her unfinished essa}^ " I'll put that in 
too," she thought; "perhaps I shall feel bright enough to complete it 
before the voyage is over. I imagined that I should have read it ere 
this and fancied I was to achieve a real triumph. Instead of that I've 
wasted half the summer and accomplished nothing worth speaking 
of. What a good-for-nothing girl I am! " 

Mrs. Isham arrived a few days later. To the surprise of every one 
Tina seemed to exercise a very happy influence upon her. She 
insisted on relieving Barbara of her care, and took upon herself the 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



141 



task of finishing the small wardrobe. She even wrote home for 
certain articles which had belonoed to her own little daughter. 

" I do not know how this will end," Mrs. Atchison said to Barbara, 
" If Ethel's interest in the child increases during the voyage she will 
never consent to part from her." 

" Will Mr. Isham be likely to favor her adoption? " 

"I cannot say. He will meet us at the Isle of Wight, and cer- 
tainly this is a very auspicious beginning." 

On a sunshiny day in July, when only flying clouds were scud- 
ding like white sails across the sky 
to give countenance to the falling 
barometer, the high-sided, tight lit- 
tle steam-launch dropped down the 
Merse}^ its muddy tide bringing 
out the old jest, — 

" The quality of mercy is not 
strained." 

The party on board were full of 
spirits; they inspected every detail of 
the little craft, and had lavished 
their praise on the bright brasses, 
the neat linen, the shining glass, the 
mahogany fittings, and the finely- 
working machinery. They had taken camp-chairs on deck, and Bar- 
bara Avas already beginning her log with statistics relative to course, 
speed, wind, and barometer. We shall not take literal bits from this 
log, for these are just the matters for which we do not care, while the 
occurrences which we would most like to know, the conversations to 
which we w^ould care to listen, were not written. 

Suddenly the coffee-colored water merged into green, and thev 
were on the Irish Sea. It was a chopping sea, and the " Coal-Scuttle " 
pitched unpleasantl3^ Moreover, there was now a hint of rain in the 
atmosphere, and the decks were growing moist and slippery. 




AUGUSTUS. 



H: 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" Let US seek the seclusion which the cabin grants," sang Barbara; 
and the party with one accord went below, Harry clamoring for an 
early luncheon. But here it presently transpired that Augustus, the 
dignified footman, who was to act as steward, was very sea-sick, and 
Bessie, the maid, found it quite impossible to solve the mysteries of the 
pantry. Mrs. Atchison and Barbara at once set to work, and a satis- 
factory meal was soon spread. With the. exception of Augustus, none 
of the party suffered from sea-sickness, and after luncheon all donned 
their mackintoshes and mounted for a short time to the deck. Then 
followed games of chess and reading about the cozy cabin table, and all 
were surprised when Mr. Atchison announced that the passage, seventy- 
five miles, had been made and that the Isle of Man was in sight. The 

weather had cleared and the sun was 
setting as they entered Douglas Ba}^; 
their first day's voyage was over. They 
devoted only two days to the island, 
makinof the tour in waoonettes, and 
having the 3'acht meet them at the Peel, 
on the Irish Sea. They visited the 
castle so connected in its associations 
with "Peveril of the Peak," and Barbara 
invested in the wooden spoons sold as 
souvenirs, and the pictorial note-paper 
on which to write letters to Saint and Maud. The queer device so 
inappropriately styled the Arms of Man — consisting of three human 
legs, apparently in rapid retreat — met their eye everywhere and never 
failed to excite their laughter. They commented upon the soft dialect 
with its use of " wass," so markedly resembling that of the Princess 
of Thule; they sought out runic stones; and Barbara jotted down a 
number of fairy stories religiously believed in by an old crone who 
repeated them to her. One was of an elf-child, left in a human home 
and nursed and brought up by the mother, who mistook it for her 




BARBARA'S LOG. 1^2 

own, which had been carried away by the fairies. One night the 
mother missed her charge, and following found it dancing on the 
birch with its fairy companions. When the elves saw that they were 
observed they all vanished, and neither changeling nor stolen child 
was ever seen again. 

Gladys and Barbara were continually together, and Mr. Atchison 
smiled as he saw how kindly was the glance which the undemon- 
strative English girl often bent upon his niece. Barbara was speaking 
to her one day of Saint. " You don't like her," she said, impulsively, 
"but it is because you do not know her. I wish I could say some- 
thing to make you understand her, for it is very important that you 
should like each other." 

" How important? " Gladys asked, carelessly. 

Barbara flushed and hesitated. "Because English people and 
Americans seem predetermined not to approve of one another." 

" I think the reason I do not take greatly to her," Gladys replied, 
^^is because she is very English. We are too much alike for me to 
care for her, as I do for you, for instance." 

From Man, hugging the coast of Anglesey, the " Coal-Scuttle " 
dropped dowai to Carnarvon Bay. Dick informed Barbara that he 
knew this portion of Wales intimately, having done it on foot a few 
years before with his Brother Tom and John Featherstonhaugh. 

"We had on a natural-history mania at the time, I remember," he 
said. "We found one hundred and fifteen varieties of sea-weed, and 
counted up one hundred and fifty-four marine animals suitable for 
aquaria." 

"Oh! how could you think of such things!" Barbara exclaimed, 
for each turn of the boat added a new effect to the superb panorama 
of town, castle, raiountains, and sky. "What glorious mountains! I 
had no idea there was anything like them this side of the Alps." 

" That peak is Snowdon, which we have planned to climb. Aber- 
glaslyn lies away to the right," explained Mr. Atchison. 



144 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" I have brought m}^ Alpenstock," said Gladys, " both for use 
and because I have the vanity to wish another famous name carved 
iipon it." 

" What a wild, grand country Wales is,". said Barbara. "I don't 
wonder that it is the land of Merlin, the enchanter, and the birthplace 




BARDIC CONTESTS AT CARNARVON CASTLE. 

of SO many of the Arthurian legends. It is a country that insists on 
large^iess of the imagination." 

"That word largeness is rather odd," Dick replied, "but it has a 
certain fitness all the same." 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



H5 



" Well, now that we are here," suggested Mr. Atchison, cheerily, 
^^ what say you to a visit to the castle before dinner? It gives one 
the same impression of vastness and grandeur." 

"What order of architecture does it belonsj^ to?" Barbara asked, 




CARNARVON CASTLE. 



as she looked up admiringly at its massive walls of gray limestone 
and millstone grit. 

" It was built by Edward I,, in the thirteenth century," Dick 
replied, " and I remember that John Featherstonhaugh was interested 



146 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



in making drawings of every part, and quoted Sir Christopher Wren 
to prove that it was a specimen of the primitive Gothic introduced into 
Europe at the time of the Crusaders, from the Saracens and Moors/' 

" To see the castle at its best," remarked Gladys, " we should be 
here at the time of the ^ Bardic Contests,' the national festival. Then, 
I believe, the court is filled with bazaars, and gay with flags and 
peasant women in plaid shawls and peaked hats." 

" Who is that queer figure over the entrance," Barbara asked. 

'^That is King Edward," Mr. Atchison replied; "and on the other 
side of the castle we have the ^ Quieen's Gate,' named from Qiieen 
Eleanor. The castle must have been perfectly impregnable at the 
time that it was built, and it has nobly stood the assaults of the 
most formidable of generals, Time. Only the ^ Eagle Tower,' the 
one with the battlemented roof and the slender turrets yonder, has 
been restored." 

They remained over night in their yacht, and early next morning 
chartered a stage-coach for Snowdon, b}' way of Llanberis. Mr. 
Atchison had intended that Joe should remain with the crew in the 
yacht, but he begged so hard to be taken with them that Barbara 
interceded in his behalf. " I never seen any real mountings like that, 
miss," he pleaded, " and besides, it's a mighty wild country, and some- 
thin' might happen to you, miss, if I wasn't along." 

The others laughed at the idea of Joe constituting himself Bar- 
bara's protector, but they humored his fancy and allowed him a seat on 
the rumble. The younger members of the party preferred the outside 
of the vehicle, and as the scenery was increasingly grand, the route 
running between beautiful lakes, rocky precipices, fantastic peaks, and 
frightful chasms, the ride was one continual exclamation of surprise 
and deli2:ht. Now, Barbara and Dick had a discussion, as to whether 
the bird dropping majestically from a pine on a lofty crag were an 
osprey or an eagle. Now they paused by the side of a deep, still lake 
for Harry to scramble down and secure some of the exquisite water- 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



147 



lilies; and again they passed some comical peasant women in an absurd 
steeple-hat, or drew rein at the foot of Castell Dolbadarn, now a pic- 
turesque ruin, but in the thirteenth century the most important fortress 
in North Wales. Barbara and Gladys sat side by side, and more 
than once in that memorable ride 
their hands clasped in mute awe 
before the stupendous masses of 
rock and the grandeur of the cata- 
racts of the Ceunant Mawr. The 
region has been appropriately called 
" a district of disorder, a place where 
woods, and waves, and winds, and 
waters were ming-led toa;ether in the 
shapeless majesty of chaos." 

At the village of Llanberis they 
secured the services of a son of 
Moses Williams, the celebrated 
Snowdonian guide, and leaving the 
coach at the hotel, after a trout 
supper prepared to climb the moun- 
tain by moonlight. The ascent was not difficult, and they paused 
from time to time to look back at the lakes, stretching like dark 
mirrors, with the moonlight pouring a silver shimmer over crag and 
forest. Suddenly a monument of mist came billowing up a defile and 
wrapped Snowdon all around like a winding-sheet. They crept close 
to their guide, and Barbara's arm twined more clingingly about 
Gladys' resolute form. It was neither dark nor light; they appeared 
to be in a region bewitched; the cloud-forms as they approached were 
gigantic, towering over the mountain peaks seen through their rifts, 
but dim and spectral with a cool, soft touch as though they were 
wraiths of Merlin and his fellow-wizards. And now the}' were in the 
fog; wreath after wreath curled and broke about them, only disclosing 




WELSH PEASANT. 



148 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



a. more impenetrable gray wall beyond. Their faces were wan and 
indistinct, and their very voices sounded hollow. All at once the 
girls discovered that they were alone. The others had passed on more 

rapidly and had left 
them behind. They 
hurried forward and 
called aloud, but 
there was no answer. 
" I am afraid we 
have missed the 
way," Barbara ex- 
claimed, breathless- 
ly, " I do not see any 
path; is it possible 
that we are lost? " 

" It is no great 
matter if we are," 
Gladj'S replied, re- 
assuringly, "they 
will send Mr. Wil- 
liams back after us, 
IN THE MIST. and there is not the 

slightest danger. I think, however, we had better not go on, for we 
will probably only diverge more and more from the right direction." 

They sat down upon the soft heath, and Gladys drew the 3-ounger 
girl close to her, wrapping her tenderly in her own Scotch shawl. 

"Come under m}/ plaidie," she said, cheerfully, "and we will have 
a cozy time all alone together." 

"We do seem alone, do we not?" Barbara replied, with a sligh|: 
shiver; "I never experienced such an overpowering sense of loneliness 
in my life. Only we two in the whole wide world. Even the world 
has vanished, it is only we two in space. This must be" something 
like dying, only one is all — all alone then." 




BARBARA'S LOG. 



49 



"Oh, no," Gladys replied, gravely and sweetly, "there is One who 
has promised to be with us even then." 

They were quiet for a few moments, and then Barbara asked, 
" Did you not hear a faint, far-away cry as though it were down in 
some chasm? There are no wolves on Snowdon now, are there?" 

"No indeed, and I heard nothing; but I can't help thinking that it 
would be far pleasanter if John were here." 

" It's odd, but I was thinking of your brother too; and, Gladys, now 
that we are alone, dear, I want to tell you why it is that I am so 
anxious that 3'Oii should like Saint." 

" I do like her, I am sure I never said that T did not, I only like 
you better. But what is the famous reason?" 

"Only this, that I think she may be your sister some day." 

Gladys did not repl}', the wall of mist seemed to- have drifted in 
between thtm, and Barbara went on eagerly: "You do not like it, I 
know, but 3^ou will as 3^ou come to know her; she is so very good, 
and she will come into propert}' — a relative, no a friend, is to give her 
a comfortable little dowry when she marries." 

" I do not think John would care for mone}^ considerations," 
Glad3'S replied, coldl3^ 

" No, of course not, but the3' are not to be despised all the same, 
and I thought you ought to know about it." 

" I like her even less for it, little Barbara. Brother John and I 
have been so dear to one another that I shall have to love his choice 
very much not to be jealous of her. I do not know where his e3'es 
could have been to prefer Miss Boylston to some one else I could 
mention." 

Barbara started up. "There is that noise again, and hark! O 
Glad3's, it is a wolf." 

Gladys uttered a shrill, far-reaching "Coo-ee!" an African bush- 
cry which she had learned from some returned travellers. The sound 
came back to them not as an echo, but an articulate halloo! and a 



ICO THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

moment later a bulk came plunging through the fog, apparently un- 
rolling successive envelopes of mist, until Joe stood before them, 
breathless, but with a glad light on his face. "I told em I'd find 
you first," he exclaimed. " You be'nt either of you hurt in an}- 
way ? " 

"Not in the slightest," Gladys replied; "unless Barbara has taken 
cold, for she has had a thorough wetting." 

"Cheer up!" Joe remarked, encouragingly; "there is hot coffee 
at the Summit House, and you are nearly there." 

Then he blew a loud blast on a tin horn, with which each member 
of the search party had provided himself, as a signal that the lost were 
found, and offering an arm to each he assisted them up to Mr. Philip 
Williams' refreshment rooms, where a warm welcome awaited them. 
After warmth and food had done their work of cheer, the}^ stepped 
out of doors once more to see the sun rise. It was a magnificent 
spectacle: first a glare of red through the mists unrolling and billow- 
ing away from the mountain; then a disc of gold, and the clouds 
parted, showing the Menai Straits, curving like a silver- ribbon. 
Anglesey purple beyond, and the Isle of Man a distant speck on the 
sapphire ocean. The lakes below partook of different colors as the 
light reached them, first black, then deep blue, and finally opalescent 
as they flashed back the sunrise. 

Mrs. Isham repeated softly one of Richardson's verses, — 

" The scene is steeped in beauty, 
And my soul, 
No longer lingering in the shroud of care, 

Doth greet creation's smile ; the gray clouds roll 
E'en from the mountain peaks, and melt in air.' 

But Barbara, with her eyes filled with tears, was silent. 

They descended the mountain on the other side, resting at a hotel 
at the foot, and waiting for their stage coach to be brought around 
with Mrs. Atchison and Tina, who had not attempted the ascent. 



pSiiiWfWf^^ 





PONT ABERGLASLYN. 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



153 



After a refreshing sleep they drove down the pass of Nant Gwynant, 
b}' the Llyn or lake of the same name, and Merlin's Fort, to the Bedd- 
o;elert, where they passed the night. Here the}^ visited the grave of 
Gelert and came upon ground which Agassiz had studied and made 
support his theory of the glaciers. The next day's staging brought 
them through the famous pass of Aberglaslyn. They passed women 
in stove-pipe hats, and men, too, knitting as they tended their sheep 
on the rock}' hill-sides; and the}' strapped their guide-books tight over 
specimens of' Parsley and delicate Film Ferns." 

Their last day of coaching carried them back to Carnarvon and to 
the " Coal-Scuttle," and they were soon ploughing their way through 
the blue waters of Cardigan Bay, with Snowdon and its mists as unreal 
to them as the legends of Merlin. 

The next afternoon it happened that as Barbara sat alone on deck 
under the awning in the stern, Mr. Atchison mounted the companion- 
way and came to her. 

"Where are the others?" he asked, bringing a camp-stool to the 
side of her reclining chair. 

" They have gone forward with Dick. He assured them that they 
could see the bathers at Aberystwith with his glass; but I did not care 
to try, I am a little lazy, I am afraid." 

Mr. Atchison took her hand kindly. ^' That experience at Snow- 
don was a little rough for you," he said. 

■^ Cousin Acherly," Barbara remarked abruptly, " I have never 
asked you about the legacy which Aunt Atchison left me, but now I 
would like if you please to understand it." 

Mr. Atchison rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. " I don't quite 
understand it myself," he said. "A part of it is very simple. The 
legacy itself is Featherstonhaugh Manor " 

Barbara sat erect. '^ How did Aunt Atchison come to own that? " 

" Gladys' father was a great spendthrift, and he mortgaged it to 
her for money lent him." 



I rA THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

"Then Featherstonhaugh Manor belongs to me!" 

" Under certain restrictions, and here comes in the part which is a 
little vague. The will mentions a codicil, No. 3, and that codicil is 
not to be found, though it would probably explain everything. The 
Manor is 3^ours, unless some member of the Featherstonhaugh family 
puts in a claim for it subject to certain conditions explained in the 
lost codicil before January next, in which case you will have to be 
contented with a thousand pounds from the ^contingency and charity 
fund,' instead." 

" And do the Featherstonhaughs know this ? " 

"John, but not Glad3's. He thought it would only worry her, and 
perhaps she might not be able to keep it from her mother. He hopes 
to rent the propert}' from the owners, and that all ma}' continue during 
his mother's life just as it is." 

"And has he made no eftbrt to find the lost paper .'^" 

" At first we fancied that it might be among his father's effects. 
We searched thoroughly but without success, and John has given up 
all hope of its discover}^" 

" Of course 3'Ou looked through that desk you gave me." 

"Yes; there is nothing in it but correspondence." 

Barbara sighed. " I am sorry matters are in such a twist," she 
said. "I had hoped it would be. simpler." 

"Oh! you are nicely provided for in any event." 

"Cousin Acherly, I am afraid you'll be displeased with me, — but 
I have disposed of that legacy." 

" Child ! What do you mean ? " 

"I have made out a paper conveying it to Saint." 

" But what good can landed property in England do your friend, 
Miss Boylston?" 

" She may decide to settle here. She has no propert}^ of her 
own, and will make a better use of it than I could." , 

Mr. Atchison's shaggy brows settled down in real displeasure. 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



155 



"And she accepted the gift, I presume, as simply as if it were a box 



of gloves." 



" She does not know of it as yet. I gave the paper into Maud's 
keeping to give to he; at the proper time." 




A TALK ABOUT BUSINESS. 

"Well, of all absurd, preposterous things! I have heard of school- 
girl friendship, but this surpasses everything. The matter was com- 
plicated enough before, but you have got into a hopeless muddle. 
We shall have to go to chancery to straighten it out. Are 3^ou sure 
that you know how to make out a conveyance that will stand in law." 

" It was very simple, but I tried to make it quite clear. I simpl}^ 
wrote: ^ I, Barbara Atchison, relinquish all title to property falling to 
me through the bequest of my great-aunt, Elizabeth Atchison, of 



156 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



Rowsle}^ in Derbyshire, England, in favor of Cecilia Boylston, of 
Boston, Mass.' Then I dated it and signed my name, and Maud 
witnessed my signature." 

Mr. Atchison pressed his lips together firmly. "You have less 
sense than I thought," he said; "you are an impulsive simpleton." 

He turned upon his heel and left her abruptl}^, and the tears v^elled 
up in Barbara's eyes, for she was deeply hurt. Tina ran by just then, 
and she stretched out her arms to the child, who only shook her 
prett}^ curls, and replied, "Me don't want you; me want my Mamma 
Isham." 

Even the baby whom she had nursed back to life had turned 
against her, and it seemed to Ba bara at that moment as if she had 
lost every friend in the world. The water had turned from blue to 
green; there was a capful of wind coming freshly up and bearing with 
it ominous masses of gray cloud. She went below feeling that it was 
quite natural that the sky should be overcast, and she lay down in 
her little berth, listening desolately to the gurgling and sobbing of the 
water along the sides of the yacht, and the whistling of wind in the 
risforinsf. When Mrs. Atchison looked in to announce dinner she 
begged to be excused, sa3^ing that she did not feel well. 

" Not sea-sick, I hope," replied the good lady. " Well, it is a little 
rough. I will send you some bouillon, and 3^ou must try and make 
yourself take it." 

When Barbara awoke a new day was shining brightly; there had 
been no storm during the night, and the yacht was rising and falling 
at anchor. From her port-hole she could make out the towers and 
chimneys of some city, when dash came a bucketful of water into 
the room. She had neglected to close the bulls-eye, and the hands 
were scrubbing down the decks. She could hear animated conversa- 
tion in the cabin. "We passed ^ St. David's Head' in the night," 
Dick exclaimed. " You know he is to Wales what St. Patrick is to 
Ireland." 



BARBARA'S LOG. 157 

Harry piped up immediately, — 

"There were three jolly Welshmen, 
As I have heard them say ; 
And they all went a hunting, 
'Twas on St. David's Day." 

Barbara hastened her dressing and joined the merry party at the 
breakfast-table. Mr. Atchison greeted her cheerfully; perhaps his 
heart smote him a little for his harsh words of yesterday. . 

~ "Here we are in Milford Haven," he said. ''There are interest- 
ing places all about, and we must be on shore as much as we can." 

They landed opposite Milford on the Pembroke side of the bay, and 
o-ave the morning to an inspection of Pembroke Castle. Then, lunch- 
ing at the "Golden Lion," they took the afternoon train for Carrnar- 
the.n, one of the most ancient towns in Great Britain. They spent the 
night here, and rambled about its steep and crooked streets the next 
morning. Harry insisted that Gladys would need her Alpenstock to 
aid her in surmounting the cobble-stone pavement, and offered to carve 
the name of the principal street upon it as one of the most inaccessible 
peaks on the list. They had a morning glimpse at the Castle of 
Carreg Cennin on its precipitous clitT, which they did not attempt 
to climb, and, taking to the railroad again, dined at noon that day at 
Swansea. Barbara did not care for the place apart from its beautiful 
ba}', but Mr. Atchison was interested in its smelting-furnaces and 
forges, for Swansea is the metal emporium of Wales. Lead, zinc, 
tin, copper, nickel, and iron reign supreme here, while the sky is 
blackened with the smoke of tall chimneys. 

Joe was deeply interested, and filled his pockets vcith specimen ores 
till Dick declared that if they were to drop him over the rail of the 
yacht all the life-preservers on board could not hinder his going to 
the bottom like a shot. But even as he bantered him he made him a 
present of a silver nugget, for since the adventure at Snowdon all had 
been touched by Joe's devotion to Barbara, and showed more than 



jrg THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. ;^H 

usual kindness to the bo3\ Barbara herself was touched by it and 
had said to Gladys, " His gratitude is delightful; he follows me about 
like a spaniel. I really believe that I have found my forte at last, and 
that it is teaching^." 

The yacht lay waiting for them in Swansea Bay, and all of the 
party with the exception of its commercial head and the mechanical Joe 
were glad to shake the sooty dust of the town from their garments. 

They passed Sker, the locale of Mr, Blackmore's romance, and 
dropped anchor that night at Cardiff, paying a visit the next morning 
to the castle of the Marquis of Bute, and laying in a full supply of 
the American canned fruits with which the town is plentifully sup- 
plied. "I intend to carry this can of Boston baked beans as a 
precious souvenir to Saint," Barbara remarked, merrily. 

Her depression following her conversation with Mr. Atchison had 
entirely vanished. There was not a morbid nerve in the girl's splen- 
did physique. She had acted according to the dictates of her un- 
selfish, affectionate nature, and a certain glow of satisfaction, which 
was not egotism, enabled her to bear the disapproval of even this old 
friend, whose judgment she so highly valued. Perhaps under his 
discontent she recognized a certain grudging respect which made 
him do homage to the girl in spite of himself. At any rate, as the 
yacht glided into the waters of the Usk, and the party prepared for 
their excursion to Caerleon, Arthur's famous town, Mr. Atchison 
playfully suggested that each gentleman should fasten his ladj^'s glove 
or scarf to his helmet in the old knightly fashion, and set the example 
by twisting a veil of Barbara's about his hat. 

"Let me see, a sleeve is the correct thing, is it not?" asked Dick, 
snatching an unfinished one of Tina's from Mrs. Isham's work-basket. 
"Here, Gladys, come stitch it as your favor to my polo" — a red 
sleeve, broidered with pearls, — and he bound her token on his hel- 
met, with a smile, saying, " I never yet have done so much for any 
maiden livinsf." , 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



159 



Gladys laughed merril}', the whole party joined In the jest, and 
set out for the legendar}^ town mounted on sturdy Welsh ponies, the 
grotesque head-gear of the gentlemen exciting much comment among 
the natives whom they passed. 

The principal relic at Caerleon is Arthur's Round Table, an amphi- 
theatre or vast oval depression which may possibly be the remains 
of a Roman camp. 

" How real this makes the idyls," Barbara remarked. '^ Do you 
suppose that Arthur really once — 

" ' Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk ' ? 

The town is real at an}^ rate, and there is the Usk winding down to 
the sea. I wonder where the tower stood that Guinivere climbed to 
see Geraint come with fair Enid, when she looked — 

"'Up the vale of Usk 
By the flat meadow, till she saw them come, 

And then descending met them at the gate, 
And clothed her for her bridals like the sun, 

And all that week was old Caerleon gay.' " 

"Really," exclaimed Dick, "this would be a good point from 
which to set out for America. I can imagine myself repeating with 
Sir Bedevere, — 

" ' But now the whole Round Table is dissolved, 
And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
And the days darken round me, and the years, 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.' " 

"Not darken," said Mr. Atchison, "but lighten — those were the 
dark ages, and all the laureate's glorification of them is rubbish. We 
can beat them in true heroism nowadays; v^hy, there's enough senti- 
ment and reckless disregard of common sense locked up in our 
Barbara here to furnish forth a whole volume of idyls." 



i6o 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



Barbara stole a shy look at her uncle's face, but although the voice 
^vas gruff the glance was kindly. It was evident that though he did 
not approve of her business qualifications he had nothing against her 
heart. 

The" next day the 3'acht sailed slowly up the Wye, past Chepstow 
Castle, with its exciting history in connection with the wars of the 
time of Charles I., for they were bound for Monmouth and Raglan 
Castle, the background of George MacDonald's fine historical novel 
" St. George and St. Michael." There was no white marble horse 
spouting in the courtyard, no Donald or Dorothy; or " chapel with 
triple lancet windows and picture-gallery, with large oval lights;" 

only the great towers 
with the ivy curtaining 
their windows with its 
tapestry. But the pic- 
tures created by the 
novelist were so vivid 
that imagination came 
to their aid, and they 
could have said with 
him: "Ah, here is a 
stair! True, there are 
but three steps, a bro- 
ken one and a fragment. 
What, said I; see how 
the phantom steps con- 
tinue it, winding up to 
RAGLAN CASTLE, thc door of my lady's 

chamber! See its polished floor, black as night, its walls rich with 
tapestry, the silver sconces, the tall mirrors; the part-opened window, 
long, low, carved, latticed, and filled with lozenge panes of the softest 
yellow-green in a multitude of shades." They could have supplied 




BARBARA'S LOG. 



163 



all this and much more, for the delightful story was first in their 
minds. 

On a quiet Sunday morninj; they awoke to find themselves lying at 
anchor in the Avon at Bristol. 

"Those who desire can attend service to-day," Mr. Atchison an- 
nounced. Once more Barbara joined in the impressive words: '^Thc 
sea is His and He made it," '-and the strength of the hills is His 




THE AVON AT BRISTOL. 

also." Her heart was filled with a sense of God's protection; there 
was no misgiving now as to her future, though to one of merely 
worldly mind it would have seemed more dubious than ever. She 
walked by Gladys' side silent and content. 

Suddenly Gladys remarked: "We shall have letters to-morrow; 
you know we left word to have them forwarded to Bristol. I would 
not wonder if there should be one from John." 



164 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



A 



CHAPTER IX. 

maud's sketching tour. bulletin four: LONDON. 

THE next day Dick brought quite a packet of letters back to the 
yacht. Barbara had a long one from Maud, and retired at once 
to her pet reclining-chair under the awning to enjoy its contents. 

" South Kensington, July 4. 

"Dearest Barb: — It is an utter shaine I have not Vv'ritten you 
before. I have been driven as a leaf before the v^ind, trying to cram 
into each day enough of interest to spice an entire week. I have put 
my work first, however, since we settled here, and have sent home the 
designs for the prize dinner-set of which I spoke to you. Beside this 
I have copied two Turner's, and have joined the modelling class. I 
am delighted with South Kensington, its museum, and its school. It 
gives me the finest opportunity for study which I have ever had, and 
1 am trying to make hay while the sun shines. 

"Still you must not imagine that I have altogether abjured the 
world with its pomps and vanities. Lady Gubbins gave us a letter 
of introduction to a friend of hers, Mrs. Arthur Mayhew, who has a 
residence in Picadilly, which is quite a social centre. .She called on 
us most obligingly, and invited us to one of her ' small and earlys,' ' 
which we afterward ascertained meant a ' crush,' at a fashionably 
late hour. Mrs. Mayhew is a different type from any I have yet met 
in England. She is more like an American, — a Washington woman, 
for instance. She is a complete woman of the world; neither musical, 
literary, artistic, nor titled; but clever enough to attract all of these 
classes to her receptions. She is shy of the aesthetic craze, and told 
me very frankly why. ^ If one dresses according to the French 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



165 



modes,' she said, '^ one is quite sure of one's authorit}-; but if one 
attempts to invent a st3'le of one's own, how is one to be quite sure 
that it is the correct thing? To be sure there are the portraits as 
guides, but then if one has any conscience all the interior decorations 
ought to harmonize with the costumes, and one finds one's self in a 
muddle.' That is just it. The English study and puzzle their 
brains, and make art a matter of conscience and theor}^, but they have 
no swift intuitions, and would no more dare trust their taste than they 
would their own ideas of right and wrong in religion. Mrs. May- 
hew, by the way, is very high church. She reminds me of Du 
Maurier's Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns in " Punch," and I amused 
myself at her reception in picking out all the little Tomkyns world 
with which those inimitable caricatures have made us familiar. There 
were the same slim, handsome girls with Greek profiles, the same 
young men, splendily developed physically, but with no particular 
conversational abilities, who took your ironical remarks in the most 
serious manner possible. There was a German musician from 
Leicester Square, who played divinely, and was patronized by a 
ponderous duchess, who might have stood for the drawing of Lady 
Midas. There were old army veterans who walked as if they were 
on horseback, and one young poet who attitudinized by the mantel- 
piece and was fed with compliments. There was even an Acade- 
mician who sat down opposite one of his own pictures, and never 
withdrew his mournful o-aze from it throuo^hout the whole evening-, 
and a quantity of fat middle-aged, middle-class people, technically 
named ' Philistmes,' who seemed to be there for the purpose of filling 
up the room, and consuming refreshments. 

^' There were people who looked honestly bored and unhappy, and 
others who were affectedly enthusiastic or jovial. There were also 
a few who sat apart and regarded the company with a superior and 
analytic air as though they were saying to themselves, "^ what fools 
you all are!' We were entertained during the e^'ening by a ballad 



1 66 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



sung by a representative of the Esthetic Clique in a ^greenery 
yallery ' gown. Her fingers dabbled with the keys in a limp, nerve- 
less manner that reminded me of an invalid duck paddling feebly in 
a brook, and there was not wanting a Maudle who posed in pretended 
ecstacy. Last of all there was a quantiui) suff. of interesting and 




THE ESTHETIC CLIQUE. 



agreeable people as well, among whom I must mention a retired army 
officer, who has lived a large part of his life in India, and who finds 
himself almost as much a stranger in London as we are. Everything 
is changed, he says; the clubs, society, politics, the papers, all belong 
to a different London from the one he knew. So even slow-going 



MAUiyS SKETCHING TOUR. jgy 

England progresses, and perhaps she is not so much of a tortoise as 
we in the vain pride of our youthful, rapid acting, rapid, thinking, 
have imagined. One thing impresses me more and more. When 
we say England we must not think of this insignificant little island 
only, but of the vast empire scattered all over the world which owns 
the good queen's swa}'. We have prided ourselves on being cosmo- 
politan just because foreigners from ever}' nation come to us. But 
England has a better right to the word, for she goes everywhere, 
plants England where she goes, and brings a little of whatever is 
admirable home with her. Nearl}' all the people whom I conversed 
with at Mrs. Mayhew's had travelled. One otherwise totally uninter- 
esting old merchant had lived in Canton, and had a great deal to tell 
me of the English colony in China; and there was a ver}' sweet- 
faced, low-voiced woman who had lived in Cape Town, Africa, until 
her husband, an astronomer, who had gone out for scientific purposes, 
died of one of the dreadful fevers. I noticed one young lady who I 
was sure was an American, — from Kansas Cit}' or possibly Denver, 
there was such a railroad, stocky, gold-mi ney look about her. She 
was not in the least vulgar, but bewildered and ovei'powered by the 
newness of things. She was ver}- elegantly dressed in the height of 
the fashion, with rather too many diamonds, but her manner was 
neither loud nor pushing; she simply sat in a corner and listened, and 
looked with great hungry e3'es. I went up to her and said that I was 
sure I had found a compatriot; but she was from some new town in 
Australia, where her father had emigrated when she was a little child, 
and where he had evidently made a fortune. Mrs. Mayhew brought 
up her brother, an officer of the Scots Guards, recently returned from 
Egypt. He was ver}^ nice to us both, and chatted away until the poor 
little Australian princess was quite at her ease. It appeared that she 
had returned by way of the Suez canal, and had seen the country over 
which the captain had marched. He explained to us some of the curi- 
osities which we had seen in the Egyptian Court at the Crystal Palace, 



J 58 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

but had not at all understood. We took our cream on the staircase 
in real American fashion, and he ran up to his room for a map and 
explained the attack upon Tel el Kebir in, a most interesting way. 
I thought it very considerate and nice in him. 

"Of course we have managed to do some sight-seeing. It would 
never do to be in London and not visit Westminster Abbey, so we 
went there first, all ver}'' much in the spirit, I must confess, of having it 
done with, for I fully expected to be disappointed. But Westminster 
Abbey is one of the things which honorably meet one's expectations. 
The exterior is gray with age and London grime, but the ivy clings 
as well as the soot, and the whole effect is very imposing and 
venerable. It is a flower of the best periods of Gothic architecture, 
not over-loaded and childishly exuberant, like the later Gothic which 
we saw in Portugal, but chaste and refined in its richest ornamenta- 
tion. You must come and see it for yourself, for I despair of giving 
you any idea of the uplifting sensation given b}" the combined effect 
of high, narrow arches, rich stained glass, monumental brass, storied 
urn, and noble sculptures, intricate wood-carving, and all the blazonry 
of heraldry and religious symbolism. What struck me most forcibly 
was not the Poet's corner with, its great names, the quiet cloisters, 
or Henry Vllth's Chapel, the very focus of the whole building, 
where every art outdoes itself, the wonderful carved ceiling drops its 
stalactites, the windows burn more mtensely, and the armorial ban- 
ners droop with a proud humility over the canopied stalls, — all this 
was very sumptuous, but it did not touch my feelings in the least. 
But the sight "^ which angled for mine eyes and caught the water,' as 
Shakspeare would say, was the tombs of Elizabeth and Mary Stuart. 
Two chapels, opposite and very similar to each other, are devoted to 
these queens. Their sculptured effigies lie at full length, Mary's 
beautiful but passionate face forming an almost living contrast to 
Elizabeth's haughty features, which could not have been less hard or 
cold in life. It seemed a little like a petrified sermon on the old text. 




WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 



MAWD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



171 



*^ Vanity of vanities,' to see these rivals lying there almost side by 
side so quietly, all the hatred and heart-burning, the jealousy, in- 
trigue, and relentless cruelty of their lives frozen into silence, — 
" ' Like burnt-out craters healed with snow ! ' 
"Our first Sunday in London we visited the Foundling Hospital, 
and some of the little ones there in their qtiaint caps and aprons, as 
with folded hands 
they reverently re- 
peated the Lord's 
Prayer in the chapel, 
and later as the}- 
partook eagerly of 
their Sunday din- 
ner, suggested more 
touching pictures to 
me than any I ha\"e 
seen in the galleries. 
That is saying a great 
deal, too, for I have 
enjoyed the exhibi- 
tions intensel}^ The 
National Galler}'' 
with its Old Mas- at the foundling hospital. 

ters, its Turners and Hogarths, and the Royal Academy and the Gros- 
venor, with their invaluable opportunities for studying the works of the 
modern English painters. I know you do not care particularly for art 
gossip, and so I will give you only a homoeopathic dose thereof, but I 
must tell you about the Grosvenor, for there I came across Major Nes- 
bit, the retired arm}' officer from India, whom I met at Mrs. Mayhew's. 
I spied him across the galler}' standing in unhappy ineditation before a 
picture which was not visible from my point of view. He was squint- 
ing through his single eye-glass, and steadily sucking away at the head 




172 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



of his cane, as though determined to imbibe inspiration through it. 
"^ What is the matter, Major? ' I asked after managing to get quite near 

him. He started and blushed 
like a young girl. ^I don't un- 
derstand them at all,' he ex- 
plained; ^ when I was in England 
before Sir Edwin was all the 
rage. Sir Edwin understood 
every beast on the face of the 
earth, and it really seemed as if 
they returned the compliment; 
why, even / could understand 
him, and Sir Edwin understood 
me.' I laughed as heartily as I 
dared behind m}^ catalogue. 
^ Really, Major,' I said, '^ I can't 
allow you to call yourself a beast, 
though every one at Mrs. May- 
hew's seemed inclined to make 
a lion of you.' 

" We were friends at once, and 
he begged me to take him around 
the gallery and explain the pic- 
tures to him. Strangely enough 
we admired the same pictures 
We did not either of us 
care for Millais, the pet artist of the day, whom he had confused, as 
so many others do, with the really great French painter Millet. He 
liked Boughton immensely, and I was proud to be able to claim him 
-and Mark Fisher as Americans, and rather glad that they had submit- 
ted to expatriation, if only for the sake of placing worthy American 
work by the side of the best that England can offer. Alma Tadema's 




AT THE GROSVENOR. 

and found that we had much in common. 



MAUD'S SKETCHING TOUR. 



173 



revivals of the classical period interested me more than the}' did the 
Major. I believe he even found something to criticise in the archi- 
tecture, and I could see that he gained in self-respect visibly after- 
ward, and gave his opinions in regard to Herkomer, E. Burne Jones, 
Hall, Whistler, Walter Crane, and others, with less of the apologetic 
and thp interrogation mark. There was a very creditable portrait by 
H. R. H. the Princess Louise, and I think the Major thought me very 
obliging for setting my Americanism aside and frankly liking it. In 
return he admitted that a portrait by an American girl, Miss Starr 
was simply exquisite, and that Leighton's work seemed to him more 
poetic than realistic, even after he knew that he was president of the 
Roy-al Academy. He was loud in the praise of a group of wounded 
soldiers in a picture which he had seen somewhere else, b}' 
Mrs. Virginia Thompson 
Butler, which he said 
was drawn with all a 
woman's sympathy and 
delicate insight. They 
have many reminis- -CNJI 
cences of Mrs. Butler at 
South Kensington. She 
studied here before she 



went abroad, and all 
praise her earnestness 
and determination. 
After all, the English 
have all our essentially 
good qualities. If they 
lack our nerve and o-o doing london in hansom style. 

they make up for it, the best of them, in staying power, and in reso- 
lutely, unflinchingly setting their face "to do the right so far as God 
grants them to see the right, which I reverence most devoutl3^ 




174 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" The pictures which I care most for in London are not those of the 
exhibitions, but the myriad aspects we see of men and manners about 
us. The panorama of street life, as we see it from the omnibuses, or 
as we go dashing about doing London in hansom style, — that is, 
tucked from the driving rain in a bugg3''-like vehicle, with a rub- 
ber robe buttoned across the front of our carriage to the height 
of our eyes, and our driver perched at a dizzy height behind and 
above us. The people that we see through the fog remind us 
strikingly of Dickens. The costermongers, the policemen in their 
stiff helmets, the wretched poor, the cockney snob, the charity boys 
in odd costumes, the Sairey Gamps, and the Mr. Dombeys all jostle 
solemnly, and the absurdity of it all is that the}^ never confess by so 
much as a nod or a wink that they are only assumed characters in a 
grand Dickens carnival. And then there were the 
gamins around about High Holborn and St. Giles, who 
seemed to have walked out of Hood's poems. 

" Saint will write you of her occupations. She is 
taking music lessons and reading German preparatory 
for Munich. We attend the concerts tocjether in the 
evening. We heard Henschel at one of the Popular 
Classical Concerts at St. James's Hall last Saturday, 
and Mrs. Mayhew and her brother took us to one of 
the Sacred Harmonics isX. Exeter Hall. The royal 
family were present, and I had an excellent opportu- 
nity to make a sketch of the Princess Beatrice. 

"Just now Saint is deeply interested in a course of 
piano recitals; nothing will tear her from London until 
they are concluded. But after they are over she has 
promised to make a sketching tour with me down in- 
to the heart of Surrey and Kent. London will be insufferably warm 
in August, and I mean to get away from it as early as the middle of 
July. Can't we manage to meet in Guilford? It is not very far from 
Portsmouth, where you say your cruise will end. 




CHARITY BOY. 



MAUD'S SKETCH /AG TOUR. 



^1S 



" I put off visiting the Tower for quite a while, for I fancied that I 
should not enjoy it. I remembered that grand letter which Sir Wal- 
ter Raleigh wrote his wife from the Tower the night beiore his exe- 
cution. I remembered Delacroix's touching picture of the little 
princes awaiting the coming of their murderers, and 1 had no heart 
lor trying the edge of the great axe which has kissed so many fair 
and noble throats. I could have quoted the words which Shakspeare 
puts into Prince Edward's mouth, — 

'• ' I do not like the Tower of any place.' 

" I went because I knew that I would be ashamed to say that I had 
not seen it, and I was thoroughly glad that I had conquered my aver- 
sion. The Tower is not a state 

prison, alone tilled with gloomy 

memories. It is a huge fortress 

composed of a mass of different 

buildings of different periods and 

varied styles of architecture, and 

has been used as a royal residence, 

as treasure-house, and museum, 

as well as a stronghold, military 

barracks and dungeon. 

"" Under William the Conqueror 

it was made the castle of the 

Norman kings, and has been added 

to by nearly every monarch- since 

his time. It is the building of all 

others \vhich contains within its 

walls, more vividly than it could 

be printed within covers, the entire history of Eng- 
land. Even Westminster Abbey is inferior to it in this regard. The 
bones of the monarchs lie there, it is true, and we have long and 





176 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



lying eulogies to their virtues, but at the Tower are preserved their 
very acts and lives. In the Horse Armory we have a small regiment 
of grotesque mounted effigies, each in the identical armor worn b}" 
the dead-and-gone monarchs from Edward I., in 1272, to James II., 
in 1688. Queen Elizabeth's Armory, with its spoil of the Spanish 




THE TOWER OF LONDON. 

Armada, was another interesting gallery, and the Jewel Tower, with 
the crown finer}', an orderly Aladdin's cave of diamonds, rubies, and 
sapphires. Some of the most notable buildings included in the tower 
enclosure are the Middle Tower; the Bell Tower; St. Thomas's Tower 
with its Traitor's Gate; the Bloody Tow^r, named from the murder 
of the children of Edward IV.; the Record Tower; the White Tower; 
St. John's Chapel; Beauchamp Tower; and the Church of St. Peter. 
" I expect to visit the Houses of Parliament next week and to 
attend service at St. Paul's on Sunday. If I were at the beginning 



MAUV:S SKETCHING TOUR. jyy 

instead of at the end of my letter, I would tell you how I enjoyed 
the Temple Church, with the effigies of the Templars in chain armor, 
their legs crossed in token that they had fought in the Crusade, and 
their shields and swords beside them. The stained irlass here is 
very beautiful, and 1 do not wonder that Hawthorne, who did not 
care for pictures at all, thought it the most ""magnificent method oi" 
adornment' that human art has invented. The remaining- sio'hts 
o; London will doubtless come all in good time. 

"It strikes me at this late date that I have told you nothing of our 
visit to Windsor and to Hampton Court. Well, this letter is already 
too long, and you will excuse the omission. I told John Featherton- 
haugh, before he lelt us, that you had made over all your property in 
England to Saint. He seemed intensely interested, and said that he 
had never heard of such an instance of disinterestedness, and was 
altogether very appreciative and complimentaiy. 

'^ How do you enjoy his sister? Saint and Miss Featherstonhaugh 
were not chemical affinities, and had no appreciable effect upon each 
other. They were both alkalis, but you are a good deal of an acid, 
and I should think that bottling you up together in that little test-tube 
of a 3-acht might occasion some lively effervescence. 

"Saint joins me in love to Mrs. Ishani and Mrs. Atchison, and in 
kindest regards to all the others. 

" Lovingly, Maud." 

Barbara refolded the letter with a little sigh. " Maud is not quite 
satisfactor}', after all," she thought; "she forgets that she has not told 
me the result of Saint's last interview^ with John Featherstonhaugh. 
I would like to know just how it all came about, but Saint will tell 
me when we meet in Surrey." 

Then she opened the letter and read once more. " He was very 
appreciative and complimentaiy." Barbara was not pleased v/ith this. 
She had not intended Maud should tell John Featherstonhaugh of her 



178 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



disposition of her property, and he had evinced too much satisfaction 
in the arrangement to quite please her. It was natural, perhaps, for 
most men to be gratified by the prospect of marrying money, but 
Barbara had imagined that this particular man would be actuated by- 
nobler considerations, and would display on occasion a fine scorn of 
money matters. She was disappointed in her hero, and she was angry 
with herself for having made a hero of him. " What does it matter 
to me?" she said to herself, sternly; "1 made the sacrifice not for 
his sake, but for Saint's;" <ind then a startlingly audacious voice 
within her seemed to ask, "Are 3'ou quite sure of that?" and before 
Barbara realized what she Was doing, she had torn Maud's unoffend- 
ing letter across and across, and had tossed the handful of tiny bits 
over the side of the yacht. They scattered upon the light breeze 
and settled down to the sea like a flock of white butterflies. 

Gladys looked up wonderingly, and Barbara met the unspoken 
question with a blush. She could not have told why she had so 
treated her friend's letter. 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



179 



CHAPTER X. 

Barbara's log. — chip the second. 

'T^HE "Coal-Scuttle" was ploughing its way merrily down the 
-^ Bristol Channel, the sun glancing brightl}' on the crests of the 
rather rough water — for the northern and western coast of Devon 
is wild and rocky, and the channel strewn with sunken crags over 
which the white caps boil and spout boisterousl}', even in fine 
weather. 

"You had a letter from home, did 3'ou not?" Barbara asked of 
Glad3-s. 

" Yes, and one from John, too. It seems that he is much disap- 
pointed by our tour, for he had planned to spend a week with us at 
the Peak, his first vacation in man}' months." 

" And now he will not ffo ? " 

" He will put it olf until we return." 

Dick approached them, stead3nng himself against the wind and 
keeping fast hold of his cap. "You can't think what that boy Joe is 
up to," he remarked. 

"Has he taken the engineer's place altogether?" Barbara asked. 

"No, he has been puttering with the bits of ores he found at 
Swansea, and has made a very pretty keepsake for you. Cousin 
Barbara. Here he comes now with his present." 

Joe approached respectfully, and handed Barbara a small box, 
which was found to contain a tiny silver padlock, ingeniously made, 
and brightly burnished. Barbara overwhelmed the gratified boy with 
her praise and thanks, and fastened the pretty ornament as a bangle 
on one of her bracelets. 



l8o THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" It is a sign that my hand and heart are safely locked," she said, 
merrily. 

"The lock will open," Joe replied, practically, without any appre- 
hension of a second meaning in his words, " if a person happens to 
have the right key." 

The others laughed, and Joe went below, filled with supreme con- 
tempt at mirth for which he could see no reason. 

They were skirting now the northern shores of Somerset and 
Devon, and the coast became increasingly wild and picturesque. The 
sea had hollowed out caves in the almost perpendicular face of the 
cliffs, and the tide ran into them with a low, sullen boom like the 
report of cannon. Villages clung picturesquely to the sides of the 
precipices, and lighthouses crowned promontories and gave warning 
of danger. At Lynmouth the yacht anchored, and the part}', mount- 
ing on rugged little ponies, set out for an excursion to the Valley of 
Rocks, the background of the charming romance of " Lorna Doone." 
The moorland was sweet with the fox-glove, golden gorse, pim- 
pernel, heather, and a hundred other wild-flowers. They found 
Oare Church, and dined at a farm-house on the eggs and bacon, 
brown-bread and snowy cream cheese of which John Ridd was so 
fond. The bog lands lay before them, a rich black in spots, and 
bright here and there with vivid green patches. The noisy Bag- 
worthy brawled over its rocky bed, and on beyond were the hills 
which formed the rampart of Glen Doone. They reached the glen at 
length, and found it full of shapeless m.asses of rock — an abandoned 
quarry it might have been, were there any city near to account for it? 
They tried hard to fancy that these stones might once have formed the 
regularl3'-built cottages oi the Doones, but they were too irregular in 
size and shape to pass for ruins; the}' were plainly the fantastic sport 
of Nature. 

The next day, a fine sunshiny one, was spent on board the yacht. 
They sat on deck scanning the coast through their opera-glasses. 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



l8l 



"I am positive that village clinging to the cliff yonder is West- 
ward Ho!" Dick exclaimed, suddenly. 

"Is that the name of a village?" Barbara asked. " I. have never 
read '^Amyas Leigh,' and I alwa3's thought ^Westward Ho!' an 
exclamation or encouraging word of Charles Kingsley's, something 
like our Horace Greeley's, ^ Go West, Young Man!'" 

" Ho is a contraction for hold or hight," Mr. Atchison explained. 
"All of this coast and that of Cornwall, which we are approaching, 
were dear to Kingsley. It would make a very interesting excursion 




COAST BETWEEN TINTAGEL AND BOSCASTLE. 

to track his wanderings through this peninsula, but we have not time 
for it this trip." 

They were passing precipitous headlafids which plunged abruptly 
into the sea and threw out a picket-guard of pointed rocks which had 
evidently once formed a portion of the mainland. "That is Tintagel," 
Mr. Atchison explained, pointing to a low ruin partly on the main- 



l82 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

land and partly on some semi-insulated rocks. " We might run in 
to see it if we were not anxious to reach Land's End before darki 
It is the reputed birthplace of King Arthur." 

"I can see it quite well from this point, uncle, and really we have 
had almost enough of King Arthur, it seems to me." 

"Are you tired of him. ^" Gladys asked. "I think it very interest- 
ing to find these places coming up again and again; it is like reading 
the recurrent numbers of a serial story. We had Merlin in North 
Wales, the Table Round and Guinivere at Usk, and here we 
have the coming of Arthur, one of the later legends, 3'ou re- 
member." 

^ I don't remember in the least," Barbara replied, " but we have 
the poems in book-case in the cabin, and I will run down and get 
them." 

Dick pushed her firmly but gently into her seat, while Harry 
tumbled gallantly down the companion-way after the volume. The 
entire family were very kind to Barbara, and would hardly allow her 
to take a step for herself. 

" Take a good look at the castle before we pass it," Mr. Atchison 
counselled, handing Barbara a powerful spy-glass, and steadying it 
for her; "we will have time enough for the legend afterw^ard." 

" It appears to be roofless and dismantled," Barbara reported, 
" though I can see some dark slits of windows looking vacantly out 
toward the sea." 

" That bastion on the shore side," Dick announced, " contains a 
portal called the ^Iron Gate.' It looks oldish enough. I wonder 
whether it reall}^ had anything to do with Arthur, if indeed there ever 
v\^as such a personage." 

" The castle is undoubtedly the work of the early Britons," Mr. 
Atchison replied. " It is built roughly of slate, joined with coarse 
mortar, without any attempt at architectural ornament. It was old at 
the time of the Conquest, and is mentioned in the ^ Doomsday Book.' 



BARBARA'S LOG. 1S5 

As to the genuineness of Arthurian legends, I refer you to Gladys 

here/' 

" It is true," Gladys said, " that the legends existed before the time 
of Tennyson. He only collected nnd beautified them with his genius. 
And Tintagel has always been popularly considered the birthplace 
of Arthur. Do you find the name mentioned in the poems?" 

Barbara looked up from the book. " Bedivere, in telling the story 
of the coming of Arthur, says, — 

" ' Ye know that in King Uther's time, 

The prince and warrior Gorlois, he that held 
Tintagel, castle by the Cornish sea, 
Was wedded with a winsome wife Ygerne, 
That Gorlois and King Uther went to war. 
And overthrown was Gorlois and slain. 
Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged 
Ygerne within Tintagel." 

^^Here it seems the conqueror king married the unwilling Ygerne, 
and here Arthur, a child of mists and tempests, w^as born and passed 
his childhood. I believe the legends are in great part true; too many 
noble deeds and words have clustered about Arthur for the character 
to have been wholly a myth." 

*^ It was a wild place indeed in which to rear an imaginative child," 
said kindly Mrs. Atchison; "brought up in such weird surroundings, 
even with no wizard Merlin for a tutor, he might w^ell have fancied 
strange voices calling him to a mission and fate beyond that ot ordin- 
ary men. The Cornish miners in those savage-looking clefts are as 
superstitious as the people of that remote age." 

'' That is the Botallack Mine, which we are passing now; and the 
next point of interest," Dick explained, " is Land's End, while twenty- 
seven miles away are the Scilly Islands, which have wTecked so many 
home-bound ships. The region between, tradition says, w^as once 
solid ground, and was called Lyonesse." 



1 86 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. i 

"And there," said Gladys, "we can v<ix\\.ft finis against the Ar- 
thurian legends, for it was in Lyonesse, — 

" ' A land of old upheaven from the abyss, 
By fire to sink into the abyss again,' 

that Arthur passed from human sight after his last battle with the 

heathen." 

"Spenser calls the spot fairy ground," said Mrs. Atchison, "and 




CAPE CORNWALL. 

we may expect the small people to play some trick upon us as we 
sail over it." 

"I am more interested in the actual," said Dick. "Just between 
Land's End and Cape Cornwall is Whitesand Bay; we will anchor 
there, and go on shore for luncheon at ^ The First and Last' " 

"Pra}^ what manner of a place is that? " Barbara asked. 

" It is an inn," replied Dick, " which boasts on the landward side 
of its sign of being the Last, and facing the sea asserts that it is the 
J^irst buildino; in Eng-land." 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



187 



They walked along the shore to the hostelry, watching the ships 
pass on the wide Atlantic. One steamer came up wearily, trailing a 
long scarf of smoke behind her. 

"She has had rough weather," Mr. Atchison said. "One can tell 
by the freshly piled sea-weed on the rocks that there has been a storm 
off to the southward; it is well she was no nearer shore when it struck 
her." 

"I wonder if she is from America," Barbara asked. 

" The American steamers come in nearer the Irish coast," Dick 
replied, " more likely she's from the continent. Those are ugly tooth- 
like rocks oft' shore, and they have odd names, though it would puzzle 
a more imaginative mind than mine to tell the ^ Shark's Fin ' from 
' Dr. Johnson's Head.' " 




LAND'S END. 

They dined royally at " The First and Last " on fresh mackerel 
broiled to a turn, and a brace of Avild duck, which mine host had him- 
self shot. He M^as very friendly, but seemed anxious to get rid of 
them. 

" The pilchards have been coming in by millions," he said, " a sure 
sign there's a squall brewing. You'd be getting round the point into 
saie harbor at Penzance." 



J 88 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

The night came down overcast and ominous before they were 
fairly under way. The wind blew" with a long shrill whistle through | 
the rigging, and some sea-mews shrieked by them, as they put the , 
3'acht's head resolutely against the wind. j 

Barbara pulled the hood of her waterproof over her head and held 
it together with her teeth, while she clung to Mr. Atchison, as he 
made the rounds of the yacht to see that all was in ship-shape for the 
night. The others were snugly ensconced in the cabin, but she 
wished to see more of the fairy regions over the sunken plain of Lyon- 
esse. There was not a star visible, and none of the brilliant phos- 
phorescence which is often seen upon these waters — all was gloom 
impenetrable. 

Suddenly out of the wall of darkness ahead loomed a blacker bulk, 
and from the bulk glowered a sullen red eye. The little yacht quiv- 
ered from stem to stern, and then answering to Joe's quick signal, 
veered suddenly to the left and shot away upon the plunging waters. 

"What was it.'^" Barbara asked, breathlessly, half fancying that 
some grenii had risen from the enchanted waters. 

"It was the port light of a steamer," Mr. Atchison replied, "which 
would surely have run us down if Joe had not been faithful at his 
watch. Do not tell the others, it would only make them nervous, but 
we have just escaped a supreme danger. You are very calm; I fancy 
3^ou do not realize that we have been near eternity." 

"We are alwa5''s near it, are we not?" Barbara replied, quietly. 
"But He will not take us, we may be sure, while He has anything still 
for us to do." 

"What more do you intend to do, child? It seems to me that you 
have as good as made your will and withdrawn 3'ourself from this 
world's concerns." 

" Oh! one can serve Him without money, I am sure," she replied, 
impetuously, " or else He would not have made so many people poor. 
I have found out that I can teach, and I am going to look for a situa- 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



189 



tion in some charity school, where I can support myself and do good 
at the same time." 

"Nonsense," replied the other, but the words had a more kindly 
accent than the reproof with which he had tirst met her disposal 
of her property. 

They went below and found that the others had retired, with the 
exception of Dick, who intended to take a turn at the watch. Bar- 
bara entered her little state-room. The swinging lamp was burning 
steadily, but everything else seemed at an angle, and she w\as obliged 
to support herself against the side of her berth, for the yacht was 
pitching heavily. She had hardly taken off her hat and wraps, when 
it lurched still more alarmingly, and in the opposite direction; the 
ewer fell to the floor 
with a crash, drench- 
ing the rug, and some 
heav}^ object was pro- 
jected from the upper 
berth to her feet. Her 
first impression was 
that the " Coal-S cut- 
tle " had struck a rock, \ 
or collided with some 
other vessel; but as 
the yacht presently 
righted herself, and 
proceeded on her wa}^ 
with perceptibl}^ less 
pitching than before, 
she came to the con- 
clusion that it had sim- 
ply changed its course 
abruptly, and. Lands' End being completely rounded, was now 
headed directly for Penzance. 




CODICIL NO. 



jQO THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

The projectile which had whizzed so unpleasantly near her ears in] 
its fall proved to be her great-aunt's writing-desk. It now lay upon 
the floor a total wreck. " I wonder if Joe can mend it," she thought, 
as she bundled the letters into some empty pockets in her shoe-bag, 
and pinned them securely in place. " The water-nixies did their 
worst b}^ us just as we were clearing the enchanted water." She 
spread the broken pieces of the desk before her on the berth, and as 
she did so noticed a package projecting from a compartm.ent between 
the lining and the outer portion. She took it out carefully, but the 
package had been broken open by the fall; a narrow folded paper lay 
before her, marked in her aunt's cramped script, "Codicil No. 3." Here 
it was found at last, either through the spite or favor of the water-nixies. 
She lay down in her berth, for the movement of the yacht rendered 
it impossible for her to stand quietly, and read the strange document 
eagerly : — 

" Whereas, the male representatives of the house of Featherston- 
haiigh, in Derbyshire, have, so far as I have been able to ascertain^ 
inva?'iably and without exception fuarried for money, and have 
made all speed thereafter to waste and consume their wives'*' 
portions j 

'^'^ And whereas, the present John Featherstonhaugh, of Feather- 
stonhaugh Manor, prepossesses me as an honorable youth and a 
marked contrast to the men of his race; 

" Therefore, it is m,y will that, if this paper shall be discovered 
before the time appointed in my testament, and the said John 
Featherstonhaugh be at that time wedded or betrothed to a worthy 
but portionless bride, or one whom he deems portionless, and that 
manifestly for no greed of sordid expectations, and with no 
knowledge of this proviso', 

" Then my heirs in America shall relinquish all claim to 
Featherstonhaugh Manor, and my executor shall confirm the same 
to the said John Featherstonhaugh^ 



BARBARA'S LOG. I9I 

The codicil was dated, signed, and sealed. "Why had Aunt 
Elizabeth hidden it awa}' and left its discovery to an unlikely 
chance?" Barbara wondered. "Perhaps, because after she had 
made the provision she half-repented it." 

Then the thought came that she need not have conveyed her 
legacy to Saint, since John Featherstonhaugh would now possess his 
own under the will. She glanced over the codicil again, "a portion- 
less bride," but Saint was not portionless now, and John Featherston- 
hauo-h knew it. She remembered the unpleasant sensation she had 
experienced when Maud wrote her of his ill-concealed pleasure fol- 
lowing the announcement of her gift to Saint. 

There was something else in the packet which had contained the 
codicil — a gold-mounted miniature. Barbara started, for at first 
glance it seemed to her that it was John Featherstonhaugh himself. 
A second look told her that the llishion of dressing was antiquated, 
and the face, while strikingly like in some features, was also 
markedly different in expression from that of her friend. It must be 
the face of his father, and she then fell to studying the differences in 
the two faces as well as the flickering lamplight would allow, hoping 
to find in them the key to a difterence in character. All the linea- 
ments of John Featherstonhaugh's face stood plainly out from 
memor}'. 

His father's chin was weaker, the brow more retreating; the mouth 
was handsome, perhaps, but Barbara did not like the smile, and was 
sorry that all the other features were so similar. Could it be possible 
that father and son were both fortune-hunters, and that she had only 
defeated her aunt's wise purposes by her gift to Saint? She put the 
paper away, troubled and shaken in mind; she was not sure now that 
she had acted for the best; but faith lay firmly under all; she had 
meant it for the best at least, and she was sure that every act per- 
formed from right motives would be wisely overruled in the end. 



192 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE RIGHT KEY. 



WHEN she awoke the next morning, the yacht was Ij^ing quietly 
beside the quays of Penzance, the Holy Headland of ancient 
times. 

In the merry bustle which ensued, consequent upon their visiting 
the handsome city, with interestino- fish-market and picturesque fish- 








* 







LIZARD POINT. 



Wives, Barbara had no opportunity to communicate with Mr. Atchison. 
It was not until afternoon, when they were picking their way at low 
tide across the long causeway which connects St. Michael's Mount 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



195 



nth the mainland, and which hes under water eight hours out of 
.velve, that she told her uncle of the finding and the contents of the 

""''^This does not help you at all, that I can see," he replied. « If 
ohn can claim the Manor under this codicil,-and I must confer with 
Gladys to ascertain what probability there is of this,-then the money 
.hich was to have come to you as an alternative will go to your 
riend. Miss Boylston. It really goes against my grain to think ot 
^our having cut yourself out in the way you did. However, that is 
00 late for mending, and I have been thinking of your desn-e to teach 
)r devote yourself to some charitable work. Your aunt left a large 
mm to be applied to philanthropical purposes. Her idea was that a 




DOLLS FOR THE TINAS. 



piece of property should be purchased near Manchester, to be used as 
a temporary home for the children of factory operatives, w.th school 

and hospital attached. , ,. r 

" Her idea was that it should be a little family, that the number of 

inmates should never exceed ten; that by rotating the guests jud.- 



196 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



ciously a large number might be benefited during the year. There 
is abundance of money for assistants and all necessary appliances 
How would you like the position of Mother Superior?" 

" It would be delightful," Barbara exclaimed. " I ask nothing 
better in life. And could father come out to me when he retire^" 
from the army and spend his old age in this lovely English country?" 

" Certainly, my child." ' 

" And we will have a workshop for mechanical geniuses like Joe., 
and a garden for consumptives like Jim, and a kindergarten and 'dolls 
for the Tinas, and just the special instruction which each child needs. 
Oh, Cousin Acherly, I am so impatient to begin." 

" It seems to me 3^ou have begun already," Mr. Atchison replied, 
pointing to Joe, who was carr3dng Tina carefully on his back across 
the slippery rocks. "I will see about the selection of a proper build- 
ing on my return to the Peak. I do not so much regret Dick's reso- 
lution to emigrate to America now. If you remain in England I 
shall think that our country has the best of the bargain. You seem 
to me like one of my own children, and I am glad that you will be 
near when I am growing old. I hope that America will shape Dick 
into something like you." 

The next landing was at the " Lizard," a rocky point crowned by 
a double light-house. " It is one of the greatest geologic curiosities 
on the coast," Dick announced. " The formation is serpentine, of a 
beautiful dark green, mottled and streaked with red and white." 

They collected a quantity of the brilliant pebbles which shone 
under water like Venetian beads. Barbara was disappointed to find 
that they lost a part of their beauty when dry, and suggested keeping 
them in a decanter of water. 

" A better idea," Dick thought, " would be to pave the floor of an 
aquarium with them," and a quantity were laid aside for that purpose. 

The little shops with their vases, paper-weights, and bracelets cut 
from this rock with which the natives tempt souvenir-seeking tourists 
reminded Barbara of those at Niagara. 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



197 



The next day they ran in to Plymouth, so connected in every 
American mind with the setting forth of the Pilgrims. They found 
it a handsome and thriving town, but possessing little of interest to 
them apart from its associations. Fourteen miles out at sea stood the 
famous Eddystone Lighthouse, and they all listened with interest to 
the story of its noble builder, Smeaton, who fought public opinion 
and the elements until his dream was a reality. They built by day 
and at night rowed back to Plymouth, not certain that the morning 
would show their work still standing. " Again and again the engi- 





{(^ tk5 



^tjAJ-^lT'^.^-r^ , 





PLYMOUTH. 

ncer,in the dim gray of the morning, would peer through his telescope 
at his deep-sea lamp-post. Sometimes he had to w^ait long until he 
could see a tall white pillar of spray shoot up into the air. Thank 
God, it was still safe! " 

From this point they took a long course to the Isle of Wight, for 
Mrs. Isham was anxious to join her husband, who she knew must be 
waiting for her by this time at Ryde. 



198 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



The Isle of Wight was in after years to Barbara a delightful b 
confused memory of wide-spreading downs, covered with flocks ol 
sheep; of churches that seemed to Barbara the original of certain oL 
drawing patterns with which she had begun a short-lived study of a: 
in her early youth; of exhilarating horseback rides along the unde: 
cliff; of cottages with thatched roofs, in one of which lived and did 
the " Dairyman's Daughter " of Leigh Richmond's touching stor}^ 
and in another Little Jane; of Osborne House, the summer resident 
of Queen Victoria, and Shanklin and Black-Gang Chines, wiL 
chasms threaded by wild cascades and adventurous goats. The; 
made their first landing on the island at Ventnor, the " EnglisJ 
Madeira," stopping at the successor to the famous Crab and Lobste: 
Inn; and sending the yacht home from this point, for Maud ha( 
written that much as she would enjoy it she could not spare time] 
from her work for a cruise. Henceforward their journeying was to 
be by land, and Barbara, though she delighted in the sea, was glad to 
strike once more into flowery lanes and fields. 

It was at Carisbrook Castle, in the centre of the island, that Mr. 
Atchison next spoke to Barbara of John Featherstonhaugh. It 
happened that only they two cared to climb to the top of the Keep for 
the enchanting view, and while Barbara was resting, her uncle, who 
had been talking just before of Charles the First's imprisonment here, 
changed the subject suddenly and remarked, -"^ I have been talking 
with Gladys, and she thinks that John will claim the Manor under the 
codicil. She says that she has heard from him recently, and that he 
is deeply interested in a young woman who will bring him no dowry 
apart from her own worth." 

Barbara looked up quickly. Had John P'eatherstonhaugh said that 
when he knew of her gift to Saint? And would he claim the legacy 
by perjury? It was a great blow; she could not believe he would be 
so base. 

" Gladys said," Mr. Atchison continued, " that she did not think 




CARISBROOK CASTLE. 



BARBARA'S LOG. 20I 

her brother had declared his mind as 3'et, and agreed to say nothing 
to him of your discovery until he shall have announced the result of 
his wooing." 

Barbara was so indignant that she hardly took in the meaning of 
this remark. It seemed to her that John Featherstonhaugh must 
already know the contents of the codicil, and be shaping his conduct 
accordingly. ''^ Saint would lose all respect for him if she knew," 
was her thought. "Shall I tell her? How would such interference 
look? As if I was envious " 

Barbara rejected the idea hotl}', and springing up, turned so sud- 
denly to descend that she stumbled on the first step, and without Mr. 
Atchison's assistance would have been seriously hurt. 

Maud had written that she and Saint would join them at Guilford, 
in Surrey, Birket Foster's sketching-ground, and through this sweet 
blossoming country they now drove in a roomy wagonette, which 
Dick dubbed " the Ark." The trimly-clipped hedges and prim gar- 
den-walks seemed just the spots for Kate Greenaway figures in mob- 
caps and long mits to take tea in painted cups, with bread and butter 
and marmalade. 

They passed pools willow-shaded and quiet, 

" Where the long green reed-beds sway, 
In the rippled waters gray," 

and hedges pink with wild roses and yellow with broom. The 
orchards had lost their blossoms, but were crisp with freshly washed, 
intensel}^ green leaves, and the wind rippled the eye with just the 
dirnples which it gives to quiet water. 
Barbara sang softly, — 

" Summer is a-coming in — 
Loudly sing, cuckoo ! 
Groweth seed and bloweth mead, 
And springeth wood anew." 



202 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

The}' came across a gypsy camp in a knoll, and stopped to buy 
some of the sweet-s^rass baskets which an old woman was braidmsf. 
The crone offered to tell Barbara's fortune, and the others insisted 
upon hearing it. She took the girl's fair palm in her own and scan- 
ned its lines carefull3^ The little padlock-bangle at the wrist caught 
her eye, and she said at once. " The young miss's heart is locked 
fast, let us see what kind of key will open it." Then she bent the 
pink finger-tips downward, muttering as she looked at the little finger 
and the others in succession. 

" Not a golden key, that is too small to fit the lock; not love alone, 
that is too weak to move the strong bolts. It will be a title maybe. 
No! My lord may carry that key to another door. Mayhap it is 
cleverness, and the lass is ambitious-like, and the key that shines brav- 
est that w^ill slip the smoothest. Eh! but the lass is fearsome hard 
to please. Come, the forefinger is near as long as the middle; it's 
honor then that leads; it's the ke}' that's straight and not crooked, and 
the lad that knows his right hand from his left, and is never left-handed- 
that will win." 

" You've hit it, dame," Mr. Atchison exclaimed, giving the old 
woman a crown. 

" I don't know about that," Harry objected. " Cousin Barbara 
isn't a bit gloomy and religious; she's the jolliest girl I ever met." 

"Can't one be jolly and a stickler for principle, too?" Gladys 
asked, but Harry shook his head doubtfully. 

" We shall have to put down the sides of the carriage," Dick re- 
marked, as they took their places. " We will have a race with a 
shower." 

After all, the shower overtook them before they reached Guilford, 
and came down with a will, blurring out the landscape and filling the 
road wdth tawny pools, through which they splashed merrily. They 
entered Guilford by a beautiful ridge, with an atrocious name, the 
*^ Hog's Back." A rainbow spanned the town with a superb double 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



203 




©^ §ui?T?ey- IoT^lbLc 



arch; and Saint was looking out of an upper window as they dashed 
up to the inn door. 

How the girls chattered when they were fairly together. Jest and 
stor}'-, and snatches of song, and peals of laughter, bounded back and 
forward like balls in a tennis-match. It was not until they were alone 
together, however, that con- 
fidences were exchanged. 
Maud had discovered a 
picturesque stable near a 
thatched farm-house, and 
the girls set out for a day in 
the fields in this pleasant 
garden-land of England. 

Maud had received bad 
news from home. Her 
father had met with reverses ^"0imJm^^'' 
which compelled him to live in a much narrower way. " When the 
funds which I have now on hand are exhausted," she explauied, '' I 
shall have to go home and in some way support m3'self I have laid 
aside enough for my return passage, and find that I can remain two 
months longer. I thought that I might put in a week's sketching 
profitably here in the countr\^, and then I shall go back to London 
and la}^ up corn for the seven years of famine." 

Maud was as self-reliant, as cheerful and businesslike as ever. 
The emergency had weighed her in the balances, and she had not 
been found wanting. 

"But what will you do?" Barbara asked. 

" Teach," Maud replied, " if the worst comes to the worst, but I 
hate teaching, and I hope to find china-decorating enough to keep me 
in salt." 

She could not have been more composed if she had known the 
truth that the situation which she desired was already hers, and at 



204 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



that very moment the committee had awarded the first premium to 
her designs for a dinner-set, and a noted manufacturer was penning a 
letter inviting her to the superintendence of his designing department. 

" I am glad that Maud will stay into the fall," Saint remarked, 
" for in October I mean to go on to Germany." 

" And how about John Featherstonhaugh ? " Barbara asked. 

Saint smiled queerly. 

" Shall we tell her now? " she asked. " You may," Maud replied, 
^ I feel as if I had been so thoroughly taken in by the whole matter 
that I haven't the face to sa}'^ a word." And so saying she closed her 







color-box with a snap, and shouldering her sketching umbrella tripped 
briskl}^ toward the farm-house on a pretended quest for stale bread 
for artistic purposes. 

" Barb, dear," Saint began, twisting a daisy-stem about her third 
finger in an embarrassed way, which seemed to Barbara very pretty 
and becoming, when one considered the circumstances. " Barb, dear, 
I am afraid 3'ou are not at all prepared for what I have to tell you." 



BARBARA'S LOG. 



205 



" Maud has done a good deal to enlighten me," Barbara re- 
plied, " and then I've not quite lost the use of my own eyes, you 
know." 

"Please don't be frivolous; it is a ver}' serious matter, at least to 
John Featherstonhaugh, and I am almost as much interested as he." 

"Naturally," Barbara remarked, dryly. 

"O dear! why will you persist in misunderstanding; well, I must 
explain as fast as I can. You know he said in Portugal that I re- 
minded him of his sister, and that he had great confidence in my 
opinion and all that, and so, I don't know exactly how it came about^ 
but while we were floating down the Thames we were very confi- 
dential." 

"Naturally," Barbara commented again. 

" Don't speak in that wa}^, Barb, you put me all out." 

" Well, dear, I won't tease you any more. He v.'as very confiden- 
tial, and he told you that he was deeply in love with a certain young 
person, and desired that person's views on the subject, wasn't that 
it?" 

"Exactly. No, I could not give him the young person's views, 
and he did not imagine that I could, but he was in such a state of 
humility in regard to his own unworthiness, and despondency as to 
ever winning the young person aforesaid, that he came to me for 
encouragement, simply from m\^ own point of view and not in the 
least as compromising the adorable object." 

Barbara's look of pleased superiority changed to one of bewilder- 
ment. 

" But I do not understand in the least! " she exclaimed. "Did not 
John Featherstonhaugh propose to you?" 

" No, dear, and I am ver}^ glad of it, for I should have been obliged 
to refuse him, and I would have been sorry to have given him 
pain." 

"Then all I have to say is that he is an unprincipled man. What 



2o6 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



right had he to try to win your sympathy and pretend to be in love if 
he was not? " 

" He has a perfect right to my sympathy, Barb, for he is very earn- 
estly and honestly in love with you." 

"With me! " Barbara turned suddenly aside, so that Saint could 




A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION. 

not see her face, but the bunch of fox-gloves in her hand shook 
in all their tiny blossoms as though they were ringing a wedding- 
chime. 

" He has loved you a long time, Barb, but he is very shy and dis- 
trustful of himself I have learned to know him well, and, Barbara, he 



BARBARA'S LOG. 207 

is a truly noble man. Can you not find it in your heart to care for 
him a little?" 

" You woo very well," Barbara replied, without turning. " But do 
you know I think it would seem more real if John Featherstonhaugh 
told me this himself." 

" He will find an opportunity to do so ere long, never fear. He 
went up to the Peak for that very purpose as soon as he could after he 
left us, only to find that you had started on this yachting trip." 

'^ And did he mean me all the time in that letter he sent you at 
Vassar after our return from our first trip to Europe?" 

^^ It has been you, and you only all the time. Barb." 

Barbara laughed merrily. " How ver}^ stupid" in him," she said, 
" It \vas just like a man, to beat about the bush in that way, and con- 
fuse matters by making us think that he cared for 3^ou, when he might 
have had his answer directly from me two years ago." 

" A favorable answer, I trust. Barb." 

" I did not say so. I am not accustomed to this courting by proxy. 
It may be the English fashion, but it is not the way we do things in 
America." 

" I see that you are determined not to be serious, but there is 
another matter of which I wish to speak to you. When I confided 
John Featherstonhaugh's secret to Maud, she told me of your kind in- 
tentions toward me. Now you can but see what a worthless piece of 
property the Manor would be to me, and thanking you just the same 
I want you to keep it for yourself." 

" That is all changed now. Saint, by the finding of a codicil which 
leaves the Manor to John Featherstonhaugh, provided he makes 
choice of a portionless bride, which he has done in deciding upon 
poor little nie. To be sure I have not consented as yet to be the por- 
tionless bride, but that ought not in common justice to affect the 
matter at all." 

" If it does you certainly can't be so hard-hearted as to keep him 
out of his inheritance." 



2o8 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" That is neither here nor there, as they say in legal papers, ' and 
further the deponent testifieth not.' What I wanted to say is this: 
You will not have the Manor, but the sum of money which was men- 
tioned in aunt's will as an equivalent to it, and that you can carry 
with you to Germany or an3'where else." 

" But if I refuse to accept even this, dear Barb } " 

" Why then I presume it will remain in the funds that aunt left 
for charitable purposes. Come, Saint, don't refuse. Wh}' should you 
be too proud to accept a trifle from me. I'll rewrite the conveyance 
and give half to Maud. We have always shared our things equally, 
you know." 

"Then why do you not divide this legac}' in thirds .'' You have 
left no part for yourself. Ah! you shy little puss. I see you would 
no longer be a portionless bride. Well, dear girl, I consent to 
receive this from your hand, as I have no doubt Maud will, provided 
3'ou promise to put no let or hinderance in the way of John Feather- 
stonhaug"h's securing- the Manor. 

"What a set of conspirators we are! How do I know that he 
would care to have the Manor turned into a refuge for sick and poor 
children? And now that I have found my mission in life I am not 
going to give it up. No, not for twenty John Featherstonhaugh's. 
We shall see, all that will be decided in due time — ^ but seriously. 
Saint, I am glad — happier than I can tell 3'ou for one thing. He 
chose me, knowing from Maud that I had given you all my little for- 
tune, that I had nothing to bring him but myself, and not knowing 
that in so doing he made good his claim to the Manor, through the 
lost codicil. I have always believed him an honorable man, and it 
would have been very hard for me to have given up my faith in 
him." 

" Maud told me that he seemed as delighted when he heard of 
3'our generosit3^ "^ If anything could make me love her more,' he 
said, Mt would be this act of disinterestedness; it gives the key to her 
high, unselfish character.' " - , 



BARBARA'S LOG. 209 

« He was only describing himself," Barbara replied. '' I make no 
admissions, no promises; but I will say just this. If any one ever un- 
locks the citadel," — here she lifted her wrist and shook the padlock 
bangle significantly, — " it will be with just such a key." 

They sat quietly side by side for a few moments, then Barbara 
sprang up from her seat on the stile. " How we have gossiped," she 
exclaimed. " The sun is setting behind Farmer Brookfield's straw- 
stacks, and here is Maud come in search of us. Can you realize that 
the good old days of Vassar comradeship are over, that in a short time 
Saint will be in Germany, Maud in America, and I left in this little 

English island?" 

"What of that! " Maud replied, in her brusque matter-of-fact way. 
" We will meet again some day, and meantime we are certain that the 
old bond can never grow thin and snap, for we have Scripture assur- 
ance that a threefold cord is not quickly broken! " 

That evening, as Saint and Maud were curtained in from the damp 
night, they talked together of Barbara. 

" I am jealous to think that America is to lose her," Maud said. 
^' There is more to her than to either of us. She was a little wilful 
and wayward at college, but she was always bright, and she has a 
heart made to fit a colossus. I have been impatient that she never 
chose a specialty of her own — she might easily have distinguished her- 
self; but I have come to the conclusion that it is a blessed thing that 
she did not. We are the supremely selfish, while she makes herself 
a stepping-stone for every one she meets, not thinking at all of herself 
if only she may lift them a little higher. Was there ever another just 
like her?" 

" I have found the type in a very old book," Saint replied,— 

" ' But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, 
The inwa'rd beauty of her lovely spirit, 
Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, 
Much more then would ye wonder at that sight. 



2IO THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

" There dwell sweet love and constant chastity, 
Unspotted faith, and comely womanhood, 
Regard of honor, and mild modesty.' " 

" And unselfishness," Maud added, " the sweetest grace of all." 







Yy. "^^ 4 



IN THE PARK. 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 2X^1 



CHAPTER XII. 

INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 

IF this were a love-story instead of a story of friendship, we might 
tell how John Featherstonhaugh prospered in his wooing. As it 
is, we can only hint that Barbara was too high-spirited a girl to be 
easily won, even when the citadel was all in revolt in favor of the 
besieging army. She made the young man's task a sufficiently diffi- 
cult one to convince him that American girls were not to be had sim- 
ply for the asking, and to inspire him with a salutary respect, which 
their after relations never lessened. And Barbara's reluctance was 
not coquetry or a pretence of coyness, but a genuine, thoughtful 
deliberation. 

"There is something very solemn in it," she said to Saint, "this 
pledging my love and faith until death doth us part, and I cannot do 
it suddenly, just because I happen to have liked him very much for a 
long time," When the decision was made it was unequivocal, and 
there was never afterward any hesitancy or regret. 

Maud declined to accept any portion of the legacy, and Saint was 
prevailed upon to allow it to be placed to her account, adding, "But 
when I have finished my musical education, and am earning a large 
salary, nothing shall prevent my taking a financial interest in such of 
your proteges as exhibit a talent for music. The idea of a fund that 
should pass perpetually from one beneficiary to another, pleased Bar- 
bara. " We will draw up a paper," she said, " which, whoever 
receives your aid, shall sign. In it the person assisted shall agree, 
when able to repay the debt, to assist some one else under like condi- 
tions, and so on indefinitely." 



214 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



"Until it reaches some ungrateful creature who will not, or some 
unfortunate who cannot, do so much for another," Mr. Atchison 
grumbled. 

"That is not likely," Barbara replied, confidently; "Saint and I 
will make a judicious first selection in regard to these very matters, 
and we will cast our bread upon the waters confidently expect- 
ing" 

"To reap a whole baker}'! Well, money has been squandered in 
more harmless ways, and I have nothing to say." 

In point of fact, Mr. Atchison admired Barbara more than he 
admitted, and it was really remarkable how the funds left by Miss 
Atchison for the benefit of poor children grew and multiplied under 
his management. He was never required to make any reports, or 
possibly some very startling discrepancies of an unusual kind might 
have been discovered; for the most usurious interest could not have 
accounted for the income which the small principal in his trust some 
way contrived to yield. 

The three girls continued their confidential relations after seas 
separated them, and each found herself the busy centre of friends 
and responsibilities in widely differing associations. Indeed, they 
were never as free in conversations with others as in the thick- 
folded, many-stamped letters which the mail-steamers carried for 
them between the continents. Robbing the mails is not to be com- 
mended in actual life, but the crime within the covers of a story is 
not heavily punished, and from these letters we can best obtain a 
picture of their daily life. 

Barbara wrote to Saint respecting hers, as follows: — 

"You should see the Manor since uncle has added the new wing 
for the children. Mother Featherstonhaugh is as much interested in 
our plan as any of us; but uncle thought best that the old home-life 
of the Manor should not be encroached upon. An addition has been 
thrown out on the lawn-tennis ground, under the shade of the mag- 



^^' 



v^ 



t^ sPT 



-.r 



C '^■l 



KENSINGTON GARDENS. 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 217 

nificent old elms and beeches, which you always said resembled 
those of Kensington Gardens. John designed the wing, so that it is 
in perfect keeping with the rest of the mansion. The windows are 
latticed with diamond panes, and look out on the triml}^ clipped box- 
hedges which are Jim's pride and one of the family heirlooms, for 
the}' were set out by Glad3's' grandfather, and are equal in beaut}' to 
any that we saw in the old cloister-gardens of Spain and Portugal. 

^^ I have an able corps of assistants: one trained nurse, a kinder- 
garten teacher, two maids, and Joe, who is general factotum, and a 
great comfort. Just now we have eight guests. One is a little girl 
who is suffering with spinal complaint, and will probably remain with 
us permanently. Another is an Italian violinist, who was taken away 
from some street musicians, wdio ill-treated him, and who belongs to 
the little class that recite regularly to me (I fancy he will pass from 
my hands to yours one of these days).- Two sisters are here only for 
rest and recreation, and will return to the factory in cool weather. 
One bright boy, who has been going to the bad, Joe and I am trying 
to teach to speak the truth. When we feel that we can trust him, 
there is a situation ready, but he does not know it. Four children, 
three of them little tots, whose mother has been recently left a pen- 
niless widow, but can support herself if the children are cared for, 
make up the number. 

" Mrs. Isham visited us the other day with Tina, whom she persists 
in calling a member of my first graduating class. Both of Tina's 
foster-parents are devotedly attached to her, and she is really a very 
lovable child. She brous^ht with her some dolls, which she had 
dressed very prettily for our nursery. 

"Gladys is a dear sister, and is continually running in to borrow 
some of the children for a drive, or to announce some new plan for 
our pleasure. Tom sent us an exquisite dinner-service of Royal 
Worcester ware as a wedding present. I think that Gladys and he 
will be married at Christmas, and that they will spend their winters 



2l8 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



at Worcester, since the old reason for delay no longer exists, as it 
will be only a pleasure for me to have Mother Featherstonhaugh 
moved in her v^^heeled-chair to our side of the house. 

" You must not think of me as a prisoner here, v^^ith my hobby. 
John's work takes him to many cathedral towns, gay watering-places, 
fine old estates, and sometimes to London; and I have already been 
away with him on two such trips, Glad3^s taking my place here. One 
of these gave me a delightful week at Lincoln, where I had my first 
introduction to a real English cathedral. Next to York, this is John's 
favorite. Its two western towers rise gracefully and aspiringly sky- 
ward; while the grand central tower, three hundred feet from foot to 
pinnacle, reminded me, in its majesty, of a noble soul, firm, unmov- 
able, and lifted above the petty things of sordid, everyday life. John 
says my simile is all wrong, for the noblest souls are those who stoop 
to the lowest and meanest. There is a glorious rose-window in the 
north transept; and the angel choir, with its sculptured seraphs, is a 
beautiful conceit. I spent a part of each day in the wonderful place,, 

until my neck was awry with 




gazmg 
wood-carvmsr 



at the wonderful 
and stone 



vaulting. 



I grew to have a 



friendly feeling for the hid- 
eous old monuments, even; 
and I bade good-by to the 
effigies of Catharine, wife 
of John of Gaunt, and to 
Joan, Countess of West- 
moreland, as though they 
were old acquaintances. 
The Galilee Porch, the Easter Sepulchre, and the Lady Chapel, had 
each their fascination for me; and the grotesque gargoyles and cor- 
bels, as they leered upon me from under the eaves, gave me a cer- 



GARGOYLE. 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 22 1 

tain satisfaction as well, for what harm could come to one within 
walls that had power to turn the demons to stone ? I think it must have 
been from gargo3'les such as these that Jean Ingelow caught her fancy 
of the curate walking in the old minster, and overhearing the talk of 
the evil spirits as they complained of him, and — 

' Such as haunt the yawning mouths of hell, 
And pluck them back that run thereto,' 

" It was a comforting lesson that the evil ones were permitted to 

teach the disheartened curate, that even poverty and death were 

God's angels. Do you remember how one of the demons snarled to 

the other, "^ We do, and we delight to do our best.' But that is 

little, — 

' If we grudge and snatch away the bread, 
Then will He save by poverty, and gain 
By early giving up of blameless life.' 

"It is good for us workers to reflect occasionally that when we fail 
in some part of what we would have liked to accomplish, that it is 
because the Master Workman has given that particular task to abler 
agencies than ours : — 

' We are not bound to make all wrong go right, 
But only to discover, and to do 
With cheerful heart the work that God appoints.' 

"I am more than ever enchanted with this rich old England, the 
more I see of it; and I am thankful that it still holds so many sur- 
prises for me, enough for a lifetime, if I do not devour the country 
at one gulp, as our tourists sometimes do. Father is coming over 
next summer, and we mean to make an excursion through the Lake 
country in phsetons. We shall visit Windermere, Grasmere, and the 
delightful haunts of Southey, Wordsworth, and De Quincy. Can 
you not come over and join us? 

"Your life in Weimar must be very delightful. It is certainly a 



222 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

privilege to be the pupil of such a man as Liszt. I was glad to hear! 
that the Germans have such a good opinion of American girls. I 
presume it is because the many Germans in America send back a 
good account of us. How strange it is that the English, with whom 
we are so ^ more than kin,' should be "^ so less than kind.' But the 
barriers are breaking, and perhaps the}- would never have existed if 
we could have kept some mannerless specimens of young America, 
of whom we are all ashamed, in their native country until the}' had 
acquired a trifle more of good sense and good taste. We Vassar girls, at 
least, cannot complain of any lack of cordiality in the treatment which 
we have received. I met Lord Gubbins at uncle's not long since, 
and he had much to say about you. He had always considered 
Gladys Featherstonhaugh the neatest specimen of what could be done 
in the way of a young woman, but really he was inclined now to 
yield the palm to that young person from the other Chelsea. It was 
a great pity that she would n't let him take her to the Ascot, — Ameri- 
can girls had such odd ideas about racing not being in good form, 
etc., etc. 

" Did you know that Mr. Ruskin has paid an American girl 
twenty-five hundred dollars for a hand-illustrated book of Italian 
stories? In one of his lectures at Oxford, he said, ^I w^ould fain have 
said an English girl, but all my prejudices have lately had the axe 
laid to their roots, one by one; she is an American!' If autocratic 
Mr. Ruskin can recant as honestly as this, his dictum that no true art 
can come out of America, the genuine opinion of the English public 
will change as generously as soon as it knows us better. 

" It is time for me to give the oldest of my girls a lesson in book- 
keeping; she has a talent for business, and Lady Gubbins has offered 
to start her in a thread and needle store. 

"I enclose Maud's last letter. It is too good to be wasted alone on 

"Yours, lovingly, Barb." 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 223 

" New York, Feb. 

"Dearest Barb, — The latest occurrence with us, in which you 
are likely to be interested, is doubtless the annual meeting of the 
Alumnse, which took place last week at Delmonico's, and as you 
could not be there, as was your right, I want to tell you all about it. 
To me it seemed an unusually pleasant occasion; but perhaps that is 
only because I enjoy each meeting more as it whirls around. I 
wonder who originated the idea, it was such a happy one, for the 
graduates of Vassar, who find themselves in New York or its vicinity 
at this time of the year, to meet and spend a social afternoon with one 
another. That Alumnae Association is more to us than Masonic 
Fraternity or Army League, or Guild, or Club, can be to the mascu- 
line half of humanity. 

"Its confessed object — to keep alive an interest in our Alma 
Mater — is the least of its results. I have failed to meet the graduate 
who needed to have her interest quickened; but the ostensible pur- 
pose makes a rallying cry which appeals to us all, and brings us 
too-ether when nothing else would. It resurrects dead friendships^ 
brinc^s o-irls in fashionable life who are in danger of forgetting the old 
traditions, and of frittering away their being upon society into con- 
tact with earnest students and workers who need to drop their 
hobbies for a time and learn a lesson in rest and recreation. The 
crirls are interested in and influence one another in a very salutary 
way; struggling merit meets social recognition, lethargic minds are 
stimulated, selfish hearts warmed, solitary souls gladdened. It is 
like a church, and better, unless maybe a church under the influence 
of one of the old-fashioned revivals, where every meeting was a love 
feast, and the word sister meant something more than cant. You may 
think that I am exaggerating the effect of a meeting which occurs 
only once a year; but the contact does not cease on that one day. I 
saw Mrs. Arthur Livingston (you'll remember her better, perhaps, as 
Belle Lovejoy) taking Ellen Smith home in her carriage. Ellen is 



224 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



teaching in the public schools, and has a patient but hopeless look 
which is sad to see. Belle was asking her advice about some new 
entertainment for her four o'clock teas, and Ellen suggested literary 
readings. Belle was delighted, and asked her to give thc: first one, 
and submit a plan for them to act upon in future. It will be an excel- 
lent thing for both of them. 

" You should have seen how we girls chattered, — for seeing would 
have been more comfortable than hearing; and girls we all are. 
Even the antediluvians who graduated away back in '69, and confess 
to thirty years and over, are as young at heart as any of us, though 
they may be mothers of families or learned specialists in science. 
We had an essay, reports from committees, a lunch that was not to 
be despised, and we talked! I believe I will give you a hodge- 
podge of what I heard. I happened at first to get stranded in the 
dressing-room in a set that belonged to a difterent d3aiasty from the 
one in which I flourished. I sat quietly after the maid had fitted on 
my slippers, and tried to boil down everything I heard, and make an 
analysis of the residuum, feeling that in this way I would arrive at a 
fair estimate of an' alumna. The result reminds me of one of the 
crazy quilts that old ladies are so fond of patching. While vividly 
startling in spots the general effect was not homogeneous. I did not 
always hear an entire sentence, remarks overlapped each other, and 
now and then a quiet, humdrum conversation had an exclamation 
projected into it like a bombshell from some one at quite a distance. 
It was something like this — 

"^Marion Beach!' ^ Yes, Marion Beach Oakley, I've taken 
another degree, you know, I ' — ^ discovered an asteroid in the con- 
stellation of ^ the Society for Ethical Culture, and ' "^ went as a 
missionary, says she likes Japan almost as much as ' ^ your charming 
musicales. How did you induce Gerster to sing for you? 1 thought 
she never ' ^ wrote a work on Protoplasm that the savants all say 
upsets the generally received ' ' school for Apache and Comanche 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS, 22 7 

children, it is really touching to see how devoted they are to ' ■ birds, 
breasts and tutts fruth,' '^really the most recherche little entertainment 
since' '^Margaret Sterling's lecture on the Abolition of the Death 
Penalty, Senator Stockstili said that he should not be surprised if 
every member of Congress voted for' ^ aesthetic dresses of olive 
green Madras lace, with peacock fans attached to' 'the surgeon of 
the Woman's Hospital had a very critical case submitted to her of a 
young woman w^ho ' ^ was admitted to the bar with her husband, but 
passed the better examination of the tv/o, before I'd marr}' a man 
beneath the level of ' "^ deep-sea sounding, resulting in the discovery 
of ever so many new species of marine algse, some of them ' ■ work- 
ing in prisons like a regular Mrs. Elizabeth Fry. She reports one 
apparently abandoned creature, who was sentenced for life for ' 
■" studying theology and has already had a pastorate offered her as the 
associate of "^the fashion editor of ^a scientific expedition to South 
America to collect specimens for ' ^ a work on abstruse mathematics ' 
■ which Joseffy played at his farewell concert, the most entrancing 
thing, and every one was electrified when it finally crept out that it 
was composed by' ""a specialist in diphtheria and throat troubles. 
Lily Lawrence sent for her when her baby had the croup. Lily's 
husband thought that she ought not to have chosen her just because 
she happened to be a classmate, and had no faith whatever in her 
ability, but before Annie left the house the infant' ^translated Her- 
culano's History of Portugal in ten volumes ' ^and succeeds w^onder- 
fully as an architect, designing the best set of apartment houses 
which have ever been put up in New York, with a fire-escape from 
each floor leading directly to ' — ^ the centre of Ab3'Ssinia.' 

" After a time I slipped away to a window alcove, where I saw 
some of our class. They were all wild to hear about 3^ou. ^ You 
can tell me what you please about her,' Clara Carter said, ^ I shall not 
be in the least surprised. I could credit the most remarkable or 
startling information; Barbara Atchison was capable of anything.' 



2 28 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

When I told them that you had married an Englishman, and were 
living in a charming manor-house in Derbyshire, they said that was 
all very nice and romantic, but not at all up to what one might 
have expected from Barb. Vassar girls are a little exigeantes^ 
even after graduation, you see. Only the very highest success, or 
a magnificent failure will satisfy them — mediocrity is the one 
unpardonable sin. However, I did surprise them; for when I said 
your home was filled with factory children from Manchester, whom 
you petted, nursed, taught, and encouraged, as they most needed — 
though Clara had assured me that she believed you could do anything, 
they insisted that I was joking, and refused to credit it. ^ If you had 
told me that she had gone upon the stage, or taken the veil, as a nun, 
I could have believed it,' Clara said; ^ she was a girl of extremes, but 
quiet, persistent; self-sacrifice was not in her line.' ^I don't think 
Barb considers it sacrifice,' I replied, 'and 'I don't think any of us 
quite knew her in the old days.' Then we fell to discussing all the old 
girls, and it transpired that almost every one surprised us by what she 
had done or failed to do. 

"Dashing Nell Delano, who was such a cut-up that she barely 
escaped being sent home, married a minister, and is very popular 
with her husband's congregation, teaching the young men's Bible 
class, and an enthusiastic worker in the cause of home missionsr 
Little, shrinking, sensitive Violet Fairchild is a surgeon, noted for her 
nerve and decision in difficult cases. Indolent Lolla Fanning writes 
a story every week for one of the city newspapers. It seems that 
no one thought that Saint was particularly talented; and when they 
heard that she had composed a sonata, which Liszt had praised, and 
to which he had written a prelude, they were all electrified. Myra 
Carter made an observation which seemed to me very just, but which 
had never struck me before. She thought that one great benefit 
which we received at Vassar was a development of latent energies, 
whose existence we never suspected, and a pruning of individual 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 2 ■21 

extravagances. This levelling process, which occurs naturally where 
many young people associate together, comes first. The shy are 
encouraged to self-contidence b}' seeing it in others; the over-bold 
are shamed into reticence; the meek gain in spirit; the enthusiastic 
are toned down; the nervous are calmed; the apathetic are stimu- 
lated. Then when the Vassar mint has given its common stamp to 
us, and we are all turned out, freshly polished, and as alike in outward 
seeming as two coins from the same mould, we begin to knock about 
the world, and our native metal gives its characteristic ring. The 
bronze for strength and the gold for value, and we tind that what we 
have lost in the refining and minting process is only individual dross, 
while the individual metal has gained in quality. 

"And now what of myself? I have nothing very astonishing to 
report. I have a cozy little studio which looks out on Broadway 
from the top of the Vienna Bakery Building, with the chimes of 
Grace Church on my right hand, and the great marble vanit}' fair, 
that was once Stewart's store, on my left. Across the way, Bunnelfs 
Museum displa3's its gaudy posters, depicting the bearded lady and 
the tattooed man; from beneath, come savory sniffs of buns and rolls; 
and far down, like a stream at the foot of my cliff, Broadway brawls 
and surges. Here I sit in a closet of a room and decorate plaques 
and tea-cups. It is not a very lofty ideal, is it? But I have this con- 
solation: I never could have made a great artist if I had devoted m}- 
entire life to the attempt, and I am a good designer and decorator. 
Long before I had any idea that I should need to support myself, I 
recognized the fact that what little talent I possessed was of the 
merchantable order, and I determined to perfect this lower gift instead 
of straining after the unattainable. Now I have the satisfaction of 
knowing that I could not have spent my time more profitably if I had 
known what was coming. I see so many heart-rending instances of 
failure in this city, — young girls trying to support themselves in art 
by decorating boxes and fans, menus, and Easter-cards poorly; and 



232 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 

failing just because they have only half-learned their profession, and 
the things produced are not really good. The market is overstocked 
with cheap decoration; the public no longer demand that grade of 
work; it has grown critical and discriminating. People say that the 
rage for decoration is passing, but skilled work still commands high 
prices; and if I have been fortunate I can say without egotism it is 
because I have deserved it by a painstaking preparation for just this 
adaptation of art. I have a fine position as designer for a porcelain 
manufactory, and do other outside work. Mother is in Florida this 
winter with father, who has been suffering with nervous prostration 
ever since his business afiairs took their bad turn. He is improving, 
however, and it seems that one great cause of his worry was the 
thought that I would not be able to support myself Now that he 
sees , how finely I am succeeding, so that I can even help him and 
mamma to such little luxuries as this trip South, his spirits have 
greatly improved. They think in the spring of going out to Europe 
to join my sister Lily. I shall be quite alone then, — perhaps not more 
so than I am now; but at present I have their letters, and the necessity 
and pleasure of looking out for them, and seeing to it that little 
checks leave and are received regularly. It will seem quite desolate 
to have to provide only for one's self. 

"This is already such a letter in length as only we three write; 
but I must tell you of an adventure I had with a burglar the other 
night, and how it unexpectedly brought me face to face with your 
Cousin Dick. Don't be alarmed, my dear. Dick was not the 
burglar. 

" After the Alumnae lunch at Delmonico's, Edith Richland insisted 
on my going home with her; and as there was really no reason for my 
not doing so, and Edith was to be alone that evening, — her husband 
had gone to Washington on business, — I went. We were chatting 
together in the parlor, and had not lighted the gas when we heard a 
step in the room overhead. Edith flew upstairs, fancying that her 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 233 

mother-in-law, Madam Richland, might need her. I sat by the 
window, looking across the moonlit snow to the quiet park, and think- 
ing what a pretty etlect it would be to paint. Suddenly Edith 
shrieked, and I noticed the figure of a man climbing down the rose 
trellis which connects the upper and lower balcony. I ran to the 
front door and cauijht hold of his knees. He could not let 00 his 
grip of the trellis for fear of falling, and I had him fast; but he 
kicked disagreeably, and I knew that I could not hold him long. 
Edith screamed Flelp! police! and fire! but the avenue was as 
deserted and silent as a street in Pompeii. Presently the butler came 
■^.reeping cautioush' up from the area, and seeing how I was occupied, 
offered to go for a policeman, and acted upon his own suggestion 
with the utmost alacrity. Then we were entirely alone, and the bur- 
glar, tired of the situation loosened his hold, and came crashing to 
the ground. He scrambled to his feet, and would have escaped, but 
at that instant a 3'oung man crossed the street from the Park, and 
attracted by Edith's cries hurried to us. He had been skating, and 
reaching us just as our burglar started to run he clubbed him with 
the skates, and felled him once more to the sidewalk, where he knelt 
on his breast, pinioning him to the earth, and holding him until the 
policeman arrived and took his prisoner in charge. There was some- 
thing ver}^ familiar in the outline of the stranger's head, with its 
boyish polo cap, as he held the prostrate burglar, the moonlight 
reflected upon their faces, and their figures sharply dark against the 
snow; but when the policeman appeared and he sprang to his feet 
with a bow to us, I saw that it was Dick Atchison. Edith came down 
the steps and invited him in; he was declining politely when I added 
an invitation, and really a more astonished face I never saw. 

"^ I thought you might be in New York,' he said, ^ but I could not 
find your name in the directory.' 

"He is in town attendins; to business connected with his mills in 
Alabama, which promise very well. Was it not odd that he should 



234 THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



I 



have happened upon us so opportunely. He has improved wonder- 
fully, and already makes a very good American. It seems very 
natural to me for people to come to us from ever}' nation, but that you 
should give up your country as you have done, 1 cannot quite forgive. 
We lose too much, and I am going to contrive some way to tempt 
John Featherstonhaugh to emigrate. 

"Good-by, dear heart; write me w^hen you've no more pressing 
charity at your hand. Life has given you the sweetest privilege of 
all, — that of helping others. If it ever comes in my reach, you may 
be sure that I shall luxuriate in it; at present, perhaps, all that I can 
bear is the delight of helping myself. 

"Through the past, the present, and future, 

" Faithfully yours, Maud." 

Saint wrote from German}^: — 

" Beloved Maud, — It seems very odd to be studying here with- 
out you. I turn from the piano involuntarily to ask you how you 
like that movement, and often fancy that I detect the odor of turpen- 
tine and hear you cleaning your brushes. 

" You wrote to Barb of the pleasure of helping others, and of 
helping 3^ourself. Do you know there is an humble joy in being 
aided as I am? It seems to me that every one extends largess to me, 
and that I am bankrupt in purse and heart. To you first, then to 
Barb, and now to Herr Liszt. My mission seems to be now to 
absorb; perhaps by and by I shall be of better use than merely to 
bring out the good graces of others. Life is so short and art is long, 
I wonder whether I shall ever accomplish what I wish. Herr Liszt 
feels that he has only begun; and so many great artists have died, 
saying that they had only learned the technique of their art, had spent 
their lives in finding out how to express themselves without express- 
ing anything. You know what Omar says of life: — 




Goethe's promenade, weimer. 



INTERCEPTED LETTERS. 2'? 7 

" ' 'Tis but a tent where takes his one day's rest, 

A sultan to the realm of Death addressed, 
The sultan rises, and the dark farrash 

Strikes and prepares it for another guest. 
A moment's halt, a momentary taste 

Of being from the well amid the waste, 
And lo ! the phantom caravan has reached 

The nothing it set out from. Oh ! make haste ! ' 

"This frightens me; more than this, it would palsy every effort if 
I believed the last line, for death is swifter than human endeavor, and 
all haste would be useless if the tasks begun and unfinished here are 
alwa3^s left as fragments. I prefer, while hasting, to think with 
Browninof — 



';=) 



' No matter, what 's come to perfection perishes, 
Work begun upon earth we shall finish in Heaven.' 

" I wrote you so recently of our life at Weimar, and each day 
follows so exactl}^ in the footsteps of the preceding, that you will not 
expect any description of place or relation of incident. I am con- 
sumed with a student's enthusiasm, — there is no delight like it! I 
played Herr Liszt's Chant d"* Amour iox him the other evening, and 
he gratified me with many kind commendations. He made me sing 
^ Du bist wie eine Bliime^ and assured me that I had a native feeling 
for expression, both through the medium of voice and touch. What 
an ecstac}' there is in struggle and achievement.^ I am glad that we 
never fully succeed, — that new heights stretch on be3^ond; it is this 
thought that reconciles me to eternity. 

" And now 3'ou will pretend to be jealous, and will say that I care 
more for my work than for the old friendship; but while you sa}' such 
things you well know in your heart of hearts that they are not true; 
that Vassar has twisted our threefold cord so tightly that the strands 
can never fall apart. 



238 



THREE VASSAR GIRLS IN ENGLAND. 



" That was a pretty conceit of Barb's beneficiary, Cuter}^ Joe,, 
to make her husband a wedding-present of a scarf-pin in the shape 
of a key, which should exactly fit the little padlock which he made 
for her on their yachting cruise, and with which she promised to 
lock her heart. The boy has more wit than his appearance would 
indicate; but really, don't you think, dear Maud, that you and I 
ought to have duplicate keys ? " 




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